


Of Earth and Sea

by etherephil



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Earth!Phil, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Non-binary character, Other, References to Suicide, References to self-harm, Slow Burn, Water!Dan, element au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 90,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherephil/pseuds/etherephil
Summary: Going to Draxicord School of Elements has its many ups and downs. For one thing, Dan and Phil are roommates and they just can't seem to get along. For another, handling element-based powers is a tricky and sometimes explosive act. But it's all worth it in the end.In which Dan has water powers and Phil has earth powers.





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: Homophobic slurs and slight drowning? You'll get it...

For whatever reason, Dan had always loved the ocean. He loved the aesthetic of the brightly coloured fish and the 50 shades of blue. He loved the smell of salt water as it tickled his nose, intoxicating and filling his lungs. It was incredibly beautiful as it beat up against the sides of boats and washed away beaches. 

However, drowning in it was something he definitely didn't love about it. 

See, Dan was an incredibly unlucky kid in the friend-making department. His entire life, he struggled to even pick up a conversation with a stranger for fear of rejection. Being bullied relentlessly and almost every day would have that effect on someone. Most of the time, it was just casual slurs or pushing him up against the walls at school, but sometimes people took it way too far. 

This was one of those times. As Dan was walking home from school that afternoon, the cool air biting at his skin, the smell of the ocean filling him up, he noticed an odd noise from behind him. It was certainly odd assuming he was the only kid in his area that ever took the long way home so he could walk by the ocean. He stopped in his tracks abruptly, looking around. 

Walking behind him was a small trio of boys from his school. They were a particularly rowdy group of boys who frequently tormented him, so Dan sped up his steps, trying to get away from them as quickly as was possible. He could hear them jeering and laughing at him, still following him down the road. 

“Oi, freak!” he heard one of the boys call after him, “Hey, where are you going weirdo?” the same voice added. Dan rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets, walking faster. 

Unfortunately, they were much faster than he was and Dan felt six hands grabbing at him from behind. He struggled against their grasp, elbowing them and kicking them. But to no avail, the boys were just stronger. They pushed and shoved him towards the ocean and Dan felt a rush of panic overtake him; he couldn't swim.

“Stop! Leave me alone!” he choked, stumbling over a loose rock as another of the boys pushed against him. In the bombardment, he somehow managed to drop his bag on the ground, ignoring it while they pushed him closer towards his likely death. 

The boys snickered, pushing him forwards even more. Dan’s heart was racing in his chest. “Don't be such a pussy,” Alfred, one of the boys, demanded. Dan gulped, tripping over another stone of the beach and falling onto the ground. His knee stung as he felt a sharp stone or broken shell breaking his skin. 

The three boys pulled him up by his collar until he was standing again. He felt several pairs of hands grabbing him again. His stomach dropped as he slipped over a stone and they shoved him over the edge of the hillside, and into the water. 

Dan’s body hit the water with a massive splash and he spastically jerked around, sputtering for air, and struggling to kick to the surface. In his strives to reach the surface, he accidentally gasped, breathing in a mouthful of water. 

Desperately, his lungs burning, he kicked his feet towards what he hoped was the surface. The water where he had been shoved was at least eight feet deep. 

As he reached out for the surface, feeling his lungs screaming in protest, he got his foot caught in something. Some thick black seaweed was somehow tangling itself around his ankle, keeping him anchored to the bottom of the water. Mentally swearing, Dan squated under the water to try to get it off of him.

Somehow, in his desperate, panicked kicking, he got his foot pretty tangled up. His fingers slipped on the black plant, sliding around and making it nearly impossible to get himself freed. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, as if he had swallowed a cup of acid. 

He began erratically scratching at his ankle to try to get the weed off of him. His eleven year old brain couldn't think of anything else to do, but to freak out. He tried kicking and yanking his foot free, feeling more and more useless by the second. 

Finally, he felt a strange force overcome him. It was as if he was giving up. He stopped struggling and let himself drown. As if to cut off his suffering once and for all, Dan opened his mouth. He let himself be filled with water, expecting to feel even more pain or even the euphoria people talked about. 

But instead of drowning, he breathed properly. As if he was supposed to breathe in the water. He gasped, “What the fuck?” he blurted, surprised to see that he could understand himself somewhat. A few bubbles came out, but anyone would be able to understand him perfectly. What on earth was going on here? 

Finally, able to breathe, Dan calmed down enough to calmly get rid of his confines to the sea floor. Thanking whatever Gods existed, if any, he pushed off of the ground and shot towards the surface. 

When he resurfaced, his face met the freezing cold air and it burned. It was like taking a sip of ice cold water just after chewing mint gum. Dan looked up near the sea wall and saw the three boys staring, gaping at him in shock. They looked absolutely terrified, yet horrifically angry. 

“How the fuck did you hold your breath that long?!”

“We thought you died!” 

“Are you a fucking fish freak, too?” 

Dan groaned, paddling over to the edge of the shore, rolling his eyes. He still had no idea how he suddenly knew how to swim… and breathe under water. Pushing it to the back of his mind for the time being, Dan pulled himself back onto dry land, shaking his curls out of his face. 

“You guys are assholes, you know,” Dan growled, shrugging his blazer on tighter around himself and grabbed his backpack from the ground. His phone was still in his pocket and, upon further inspection, had a bit of seaweed wrapped around it. He tried desperately to turn it on, knowing deep down it was hopeless. It didn't turn back on, the now cracked screen staying black. 

He turned and narrowed his eyes at the still shell shocked boys. “And you’re paying for my new phone as well, by the way,” he spat, turning on his heel and storming down the road, scowling the entire way home. 

~

Dan was walking by the water again, despite his mother's insistence that he didn't go near it anymore. She seemed to think that he had hallucinated the breathing under water after he might have actually stopped breathing for a moment. But Dan knew he hadn't imagined it. He felt himself breathe in, but his lungs were filled only with oxygen, as if it filtered out the water part. 

The cool air bit at his skin and ruffled his hair and shirt, making his hair a curly mess atop his head. He was nearing the area of the harbour where he fell. Some strange, distant part of him yearned to climb down and swim again, but what if he really had imagined it all? What if he properly drowned and his mother never forgave herself for not being able to stop him? What if his body was never found or it had rotted before it was found at the bottom? 

As these intrusive thoughts gnawed at him, he felt his body moving of its own accord. Carefully, he slipped his blazer and his bag off and placed them on the pavement. He clambered over the wall so that he was hovering a foot above the splashing water below. Looking around once more, he dropped into the sea. 

Immediately, as the cold seeped into his body, he gasped for air. Instead of his lungs being corrupted and destroyed by water, drowning him, he breathed in properly. It wasn't a dream or a vivid hallucination. Either that or he had sudden onset schizophrenia, which wasn't very likely. 

“What the hell?” he muttered, sinking to the bottom. He kicked through the water, squinting to see through the cloudy liquid. After a few minutes of swimming under the freezing cold water, he resurfaced, his face burning as it reacted to the baltic weather above the water. 

As he began to wade towards the wall, his heart dropped into his stomach. There was a fire engine and a police car parked next to his stuff and he recognised his mother's car as well. His mother was leaning over the edge of the wall, looking around frantically while a neighbour attempted to calm her sobbing down. 

“Fuck.” 

Dan waded over towards the wall again, breathing heavily. His mother let out a shriek as she noticed him. “DANIEL! DANIEL!” she screamed as he clambered up onto the side again. Before he could even get up properly, she had enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Mum, I’m fine. Mum,” he whined as she sobbed all over his already soaked body. He rolled his eyes at her reaction, but then again, she thought he had died. 

She shook her head. “Don't you dare do that again! You could have died!” she was saying, “When did you learn to swim? You were under the water for 15 minutes!” Dan knew she wouldn't believe his story if he told her. 

Before he could answer, she added, “Oh, you must be freezing! Come on. Let's get you home. We have a lot to talk about, Mr.” Dan rolled his eyes again. 

~

The next few weeks went by pretty dully. Dan’s mum insisted on picking him up from school now, not trusting him enough to not walk home. She was right to do so because he probably would have continued to go that way if she hadn't been such a helicopter mum. 

She took his story into consideration this time and started looking up cases of people being able to breathe underwater. So far, she had found only a few cases and it was rather worrying because they were filed as missing. Every last one of them. Not fun, to say the least.  
Dan was walking into the Co-op near his house a few days after the latest Event, his hands shoved in his pockets. His mum was waiting in the car with the engine on, watching him like a hawk from behind the steering wheel. He rolled his eyes as he strolled through one of the aisles, completely oblivious to the bell tinkling to signal another customer. 

He was also unaware that the new customers were Alfred and his friend Jacob. As he sidled along the aisle, his eyes scanning the items on the shelves, Alfred and Jacob made their way behind him, still unnoticed. 

“Oi, fish boy. Looking for some fish food?” Dan heard Alfred’s cool voice behind him. He stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel to face the two boys. 

They were both much taller than Dan was, seeing as he was only 4’11” at age 11 and they were at least 5’8” at the age of 16. It wasn't a fair fight, in Dan's opinion. But still, he stood his ground and looked determinedly at the two older, larger boys. 

“What do you want, Alfred?” Dan sighed, rolling his eyes. He looked much more confident than he felt at that moment. Alfred sneered, his eyes flashing venomously. The glimmer of hatred made Dan’s heart skip a beat and he stepped back. 

Noticing his attempt to avoid them, Jacob chuckled dryly. “Scared, freak show?” he asked, his voice harsh and drawled. Dan swallowed. 

“G-get away f-from m-me,” he stammered, his hands beginning to shake uncontrollably by his sides. He stepped back another few paces. The huge ice box was right behind him, making his skin tingle with the cool air radiating off of it. 

The two boys stepped closer, forcing Dan to lean against the side of the ice box. His hand found the handle of the icebox, giving him something to hold to keep his hand shaking so much. 

Alfred cackled. “You're such a pussy, Howell,” he chortled, his eyes shut tight as he tossed his head back in his cruel laughter. 

Dan shook his head vigorously. 

“Oh? Not a pussy, eh?” Alfred teased, “Then prove it.” A rush of adrenaline was beginning to build up inside of Dan. His hands no longer shook, but he still felt lightheaded. 

“Leave me alone,” he seethed, glaring up at the two boys before him. They stepped closer. “I said, leave me alone,” he repeated through his gritted teeth. 

Again, the two boys stepped forward, leaving only a foot or so between them. Now all of the adrenaline and hyped up, nervous energy built up in his chest. “Leave me alone,” he repeated, his frown deepening significantly. They continued their trash talk. 

“Make me, weirdo.” 

“What’re you gonna do about it, faggot?”

Of all the things they had said to him prior, the last word was what really shook his core. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” he shrieked. Instinctively, he threw the fridge door open. Instead of a gust of cold air, a massive blast of freezing cold water burst out like a broken damn. It was so harsh it knocked the boys to the ground. “Fuck,” Dan yelped, ducking down to avoid the blast. 

“What's going on? What happened?” The store manager came hurrying over to find the three boys all on the ground next to the open door of the icebox. Dan was perfectly dry, curled up in a ball next to the aisle while the other two were lying flat on their backs, soaked to the bone. 

A bell tinkled erratically and Dan’s mum came sprinting over, struggling to keep from slipping in the puddles. “Dan? Did you do this?” she demanded, her face twisted with horror and shock. Dan’s body was becoming wracked with sobs as he gripped tightly to his knees. Sheepishly, Dan looked up at his mother, his brown eyes bloodshot, and nodded his head. 

—

The next few hours was all a bit of a blur. Dan was whisked away home by his mother, leaving the two dripping boys and the manager to deal with the mess. Dan was made to go to his room and then his mother called someone Dan didn't know. She talked in a hushed whisper, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, her phone against her ear for at least an hour. 

Then, Dan heard the doorbell ring a short time later. He heard his mother whispering with someone at the door. A few minutes later, Dan heard a knock at his door. The relatively loud, sudden noise made him jump, looking up as a pristine and elegantly dressed woman with long dark hair cascading around her shoulders. She had an odd aura around her, one that was both intimidating yet calming. 

“Hello, Daniel. May I sit?” the woman asked, gesturing to Dan’s desk chair. Her voice was almost unnaturally soft, bouncing fluidly in Dan’s ears. He bobbed his head up and down and watched her sit primly on the edge of his swivel chair, facing him with intense eye contact.  
A tense, awkward silence filled the room then and Dan felt himself getting increasingly more uncomfortable with this paradoxical woman’s presence the longer she was there. After a long and rather agonising few minutes, Dan finally cleared his throat and asked, “Who are you?” 

The woman smiled, her dark eyes barely twinkling in the light. Something about her was off. Something Dan couldn't put his finger on. “I am Melinda Birchwood. I am the headmaster of Draxicord School of Elements,” she replied simply, almost robotically. 

Dan knitted his eyebrows together skeptically, a strange suspicious tone dripping into his skull. “I’m sorry, what? What school of what?” he blurted out, hearing his voice shrouding itself with suspicion and discomfort. Dan decided that he really didn't like this woman. 

“You can breathe underwater and you can control water somewhat, can't you?” It wasn't much of a question. He could tell she knew the answer. Slowly, Dan nodded, maintaining eye contact, swallowing hard. “Well, Draxicord is a school for people like you. People with powers relating to elements. It will help guide them in how to control their powers properly,” she explained, her voice slow and patronising. Like she was talking to a child. Although, seeing as Dan was 11… 

Dan shook his head. “This is absurd. You’re telling me there's some secret school for people… people like me?” he clarified with scepticism. “That's crazy. There's no such thing as weird 'powers relating to elements’.” He puts air quotes around the last part, his tone mocking and harsh. Normally, Dan would feel bad for his cruel and sarcastic tone towards an adult, but this eerily calm woman is putting him on edge. 

The woman laughs. It's sharp and faked and it cuts into Dan like a knife. “Even if you don't believe me now, you will once you go there in the autumn,” she stated curtly, her eyes twinkling falsely. If Dan didn't know any better, he would say that she had a sort of fire in her eyes. A flickering, sparkling fire. 

“Excuse me?”

“On September 3rd, you will start your first day of school. You will get there by train or by car, whichever you choose.” She spoke like molasses, her voice thick and slow and too too sweet for Dan’s liking. Her sweetness leaves a bitter taste in Dan’s mouth. 

He shakes his head. “Okay, so what exactly do they teach at this… school?” he asked slowly, his voice leaking with incredulousness. Dan crossed his arms over his chest, frowning at the woman. 

“Oh, many things. Waterbending, History of the elements, Defence and Combat, Botany, Oceanography, Astronomy, Potions and English are all obligatory. However, you may choose later in your 5th year to study Marine Biology, Meteorology, or Adventure Education. 

“You can also take extra-curriculars such as drama, sexuality studies, art, book club, mathematics and debating.” She droned on about all of the different classes Dan could and would do, her tone monotonous and bored. Dan had a feeling she had to say this stuff a lot. 

However, after her long ramble about different classes, Dan felt himself becoming less and less sceptical. He still had a weird feeling about her, but he believed her a lot more. He would just have to go to the school to see if she was lying or not.


	2. Chapter Two

“Phil, it's time to go! Hurry up and finish packing!” Phil’s mother called up the stairs as Phil was just finishing putting the last of his clothes in his trunk. He looked up at the wall at his poster of Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, still trying to decide whether or not he would take the poster with him. He’d have to decorate his side of the room somehow. 

Sighing, Phil peeled the poster off the wall, rolling it up and shoving it into his blue backpack. He slipped his phone into the back pocket of his black jeans and zipped up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Coming, mum!” he called, making his way down the spiral staircase that creaked underfoot. He dragged his trunk down the steps, letting it bang on every step. Mrs. Lester was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she stirred something at a steaming pot on the stove. His mother was highly skilled at potion making and he assumed that she was making one of the many she had accomplished over the years. 

Phil padded into the kitchen, leaving his trunk and bag by the door. “I’m ready,” he said as he strolled into the room. His mother looked up from her cooking, smiling softly at her son. 

“Your taxi will be here in a minute, love. Go and wait outside,” his mother said, going right back to her potion making. Phil sighed, looking down at his feet. He should have known his mother wouldn't suddenly care about him going to his new school. She never cared much for him. 

Phil nodded and turned to exit. “I’ll see you at Christmas,” he whispered, barely above a whisper. Suddenly, cutting into the silence like a blade, Phil heard a horn outside. He grabbed his bag and his trunk and opened the heavy black front door. He shut it behind him and trudged towards the car, in a half daze. 

“Hello, sir,” Phil greeted, helping the taxi driver shove his trunk into the back of the car. The older gentleman tipped his hat and shut the back, going over to his side of the car. Phil climbed into the passenger's seat beside him and pulled his phone out of his back pocket before buckling his seatbelt. 

—

Phil arrived at Waterloo several hours later, exhausted out of his mind. Due to living in Rawtenstall, which only reached Manchester, he had to take another train from Manchester to get to London Waterloo Railway Station. He was to meet the Draxicord Express train there to get to school. 

Phil dragged his case up the broken escalator, his case felt heavier each step he took as it scraped unnaturally up each step. He looked at his watch. It was 12 o’clock. He still had another half hour until his train would leave and he would be on his way to Draxicord School of Elements. His stomach twisted excitedly and he gained a rush of energy. 

Platform six was crowded already very crowded by the time he got there. Students and parents alike were roaming around the platform, saying their goodbyes as the pupils boarded the express train. A station master was pacing around, conducting students to board the train and make room for the others in the crowded area. 

“Oi, four eyes. Put your case with the others, would ye?” the station master hollered, his eyes glinting at Phil, making his stomach twist nervously. He bobbed his head stiffly and placed his trunk with the others. He carried his bag over his shoulders and clambered up the steps of the train, almost tripping over his feet. 

Phil navigated his way through the small maze of students in the corridor of the train, apologising every few steps when he inevitably bashes into his peers. He looked inside each individual compartment, finding most of them occupied by fellow pupils. Eventually, Phil reached the public compartment which had lots of rows of double seaters and a few four seaters around tables. 

The compartment was mostly empty but for a few other students near his age. Phil dropped into one of the empty two-seaters and put his bag at his feet, pulling his phone and earbuds out of his front pocket, sticking the buds into his ears. He let Muse wash into his ears, tapping his foot with the beat. 

Phil decided to take the time to look around the nearly empty wagon. There was a tired looking girl with long blonde hair cascading down around her shoulders. She looked around 15 and already she looked tired of existing. Nearby, a boy with a military cut was sitting gazing out of the window of the train as people still bobbed around the platform together. 

At that moment, a boy Phil’s age entered the room. He had brown hair in a side fringe, brown eyes flicking around the room. He slipped into one of the empty seats. Phil looked over at another girl their age who had long brown hair tied back in a sleek ponytail, thick rimmed glasses sitting delicately on her nose. She was pretty. 

The compartment began to fill up a lot faster a few minutes later as it neared the scheduled time to leave. Soon, there were only a few empty seats left, including the one next to Phil. Phil was starting to think he would have the row all to himself as the train began to pull out of the station when he heard someone clear their throat and then tap his shoulder. 

“Is this seat taken? There aren't any other free ones on the train.” Phil turned to look up at a boy his age with curly brown hair and dazzling green eyes. Phil shook his head, yanking his headphones out of his ears. The boy sat down next to him, putting his backpack at his feet. It was covered in many colourful pins. 

“I like your bag. Those are some cool pins,” Phil stated, gesturing casually towards the boy’s green bag. “I’m Phil, by the way,” he added, putting hand out for the boy to shake. 

The boy shook Phil’s hand and replied, “I’m PJ Liguori.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and dropped Phil’s hand. “I have a mild obsession with pins. It's a bit weird, to be frank.” PJ chuckled, blushing slightly. 

“You know, PJ Liguori? I think I like you,” Phil stated, grinning broadly, his blue eyes twinkling. 

—

The express train arrived at the school’s private station six hours later. It was already getting dark out, the evening sky a blur of pastel colours. Faint orange and pink, cheerful and soft purple and even a few strips of red peaking between the other colours. Phil was mesmerized as he looked out the window, watching as the train pulled into the station. His stomach was growling loudly. He hoped they would have food when they got inside. 

Phil and PJ followed the rest of the crowd outside and up a small dirt path leading to where a bunch of carriages were parked. Phil grabbed PJ’s wrist in an attempt to keep from losing him in the crowd. They clamber inside one of the wrought iron carriages being pulled by a metal horse which toed the ground with one of its silvery hooves. It bobbed its head up and down as the two boys stumbled past. 

Inside already was a boy in their year with brown hair in a messy fringe. Beside him sat a girl a few years older with her hair tied back in a messy bun atop her head. “C-can we join you?” Phil asked, stumbling over his words. 

The boy nodded and the girl shrugged. “What element are you guys? I’m fire and my sister Sophie is a waterbender,” the boy babbled, a cheerful, friendly smile on his face. “I’m Chris, by the way,” he added as an afterthought, as if he forgot his own name. 

“Earth,” they said together, turning to look at each other, grins stretching across their faces. The carriage bumped along the slightly cobbled road. Phil nearly fell out of his seat. 

A few minutes later, the carriage stopped, lurching in front of the school. “Here we are!” Chris exclaimed, hopping out of his seat and kicking the door open. Sophie rolled her eyes and followed slowly behind. 

Phil climbed out of the carriage, closely followed by PJ. As soon as they were outside, they both gasped. The huge marble building was surrounded entirely by a rather interesting display of gardens. On one quarter was a earthy, slightly overtaken garden. Another one had a huge lake surrounded by icicles and frost-covered plants. Another quarter was a fiery wasteland of black concrete. The last garden was a simple concrete basketball court with a few hoops. It met a massive precipice in which Phil guessed many basketballs had been lost over. 

The huge tower had sleek black roofs and many turrets sticking out. The front entrance had about ten steps leading up to two mammoth black doors with dimmed colourful glass. Phil followed the crowd up the long stone pathway. A small marble sign was sitting slightly wayward with a piece of paper tacked to it reading: First Years. Phil elbowed Chris and PJ on either side of him and pointed towards the sign. They marched towards it. 

A stern yet calm looking woman in a navy blue pantsuit was standing next to it, drumming her fingers on a column. Phil stood on tiptoes to try and get a good view of the older woman, but he couldn't over the crowd. “Welcome, first years,” she announced, her voice smooth and comforting to Phil’s ears. “To Draxicord School of Elements. You will now be placed with your new roommates and then you will go to dinner. I assume you are hungry,” the woman continued. 

“I hope we’re roommates,” Phil whispered to PJ, elbowing him slightly. PJ nodded, his green eyes fixed on the woman. 

The stern woman pulled a scroll out from behind her. “I will now call you in pairs and you will come up here to retrieve your keys to your room… Rarity Blue and Amiah South.” Two girls stumbled through the crowd and walked up to the front of the crowd. This continued for the next few minutes until Phil heard his name called. 

“Philip Lester and Daniel Howell,” she stated, looking down at the scroll. Phil looked sadly at PJ and Chris and pushed through the labyrinth of pupils until he got to the top of the steps. The boy he saw on the train earlier joined him, his brown eyes scanning the crowd awkwardly. 

She handed them each a small silver key with a metal keychain engraved with: D7 Phil thanked the woman and brushed past Daniel to get inside the school finally. The inside of the entrance hall was massive. It was lit up dimly like a Hollister shop, two marble staircases going to two separate sides. There was a plush black carpet going up the two flights of stairs and towards what Phil assumed was the dinner hall. A muffled abundance of sound could be heard on the other side of two wrought iron doors. 

“This school sure does like black and metal,” a voice said suddenly from behind Phil. He jumped slightly and turned to find his new roommate standing before him. “So you're my new roommate, eh, Philip?” he drawled, a smirk painted prominently on his face. 

Phil shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose. And I go by Phil,” he replied just as cooly, “Daniel.” The other boy rolled his eyes. 

“I go by Dan,” he said, mocking Phil’s tone. “I kind of like the aesthetic of the school, you know? Dark and mysterious. Kind of wayward,” Dan articulated, continuing his previous statement. 

“See you around, Lester.” 

The slightly shorter boy brushed past Phil and entered the dinner hall. An eruption of noise cut the air and disappeared shortly after, the door closing. Several others entered the hall now, whispering together and entering the hall as well. The loud noise as the door opened hurt Phil’s ears.

—

After dinner, in which Phil sat between Chris and PJ, he followed the crowd up one of the two staircases. A sign at the bottom, which he hadn't noticed earlier, stated: Rooms A-M. His was D, so he followed up that one. 

When he got to his room, Dan was already there, unpacking his trunk. He already had his bedspread set up on the bed and his bedside drawers were all open. The room was a fairly good size, shaped like a perfect rectangle with a bay window overlooking the cliffside. There were two identical black desks on either side of the window. The bed that Dan hadn't covered with his plain white duvet had no sheets on it yet, only a mattress cover and a couple of pillows with no pillowcase. 

Phil grabbed his trunk from where it sat upright against the wall, putting it at the foot of his bed. He unlocked it and opened the lid fluidly. All of his colourful clothes were inside there, along with some picture frames and other trinkets in the corners. He pulled out all of his trinkets and put them on his bed before turning to unpack his clothes. 

Fifteen minutes later, Phil finally finished his set up. His blue and green checked duvet was in place with a lime green teddy bear sitting against the pillows. He had a red alarm clock on his bedside with a lamp which had a Doctor Who lampshade. He had placed a small picture of him and his family while on vacation to the Isle of Man a few years back as well. 

Dan was propped up in bed, thumbing through a book as Phil stood on his bed spread to tape up his Kill Bill poster. “Kill Bill? Really?” Dan scoffed, looking up from his book. Phil turned and scowled at the boy whose hair was getting curlier now. 

Phil finished putting up the paper and sat down on top of his comforter, crossing his legs in his lap and leaning over to pick up his own book. The two boys sat in complete silence, reading their respective novels until they eventually fell asleep. 

—

The next morning, Phil woke up with a raging headache, groaning and rolling over onto his front. The morning sunlight was peeking through the curtains, etching thin lines of light across the bedspread, blinding him. 

“Get up, bastard. We have class in like a half an hour!” A shrill, whiney voice broke the silence and suddenly Phil felt something soft and light hit him hard in the head. A pillow. 

Phil sat up abruptly, frowning. “What the heck are you doing?” he yelled, grabbing Dan’s white pillow and throwing it back at him. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and climbed out of bed. He made his way over to his chest of drawers and rifled around, pulling out a white button down, black dress trousers and his green and yellow Earthen Student tie. Dan was already dressed, sitting at the edge of his bed and straightening his hair. He was wearing a blue and grey tie to show that he was an Aquatic Student. 

Phil put his crisp white shirt and fumbled as he buttoned it up. He pulled on his trousers next, closely followed by mismatched socks: one with blue and white stripes and the other pink with doughnuts. 

Dan scoffed, his eyes barely darting to look at Phil’s socked feet. He was still straightening his curly brown hair. “Odd socks? Really? I bet you think you’re so cute and unique, don't you?” the boy teased, rolling his eyes. He finished with his hair and clicked the button off, storing it in a burn-proof case. 

Downstairs at breakfast, Chris and PJ were sitting together already at one of the tables, bickering over something stupid. The huge hall was set up with hundreds of circular tables, all packed with groups of friends. Chris and PJ were sitting with a pretty girl with shoulder-length brown hair and a white and black tie. She was an Aired Student. 

“Hey, guys!” Phil said, sitting down next to PJ. He waved cheerily at him and went right back to arguing about, apparently, who shot first in Star Wars. Phil grabbed a bowl from the stack on the table and poured one of the mini boxes of Coco Pops. He liked his cereal dry. 

“What classes do you guys have first?” Chris asked, ending the argument with PJ finally. He had a piece of paper with a schedule on it, his eyes scanning the page. “I have History of Elements with the Airheads,” he said as he traced his finger across the page. 

The girl sitting next to Chris scoffed. “Ugh, that means I have that, too,” she groaned, “And stop calling us Airheads. I can literally suck you into a fucking tornado if I want.” Chris shrugged and stuck his middle finger up. 

PJ was looking down at his own timetable, his glasses falling down his nose slightly. “Phil and I have Defence with the Aquatics,” he stated, pointing at the top of the schedule. That meant Phil’s first lesson would be with Howell. Gross. 

PJ and Phil were sitting near the front, their textbooks out on the desk, waiting for the teacher to arrive. PJ was tapping his red pencil on the desk, staring into middle distance, while Phil found himself doodling on his blue jotter. At that moment, the door to the classroom swung open. Expecting the teacher, Phil spun around in his seat, only to find Dan Howell marching in. He had a pretty girl following behind him with her long brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Her tie matched Dan’s. 

The two students strolled over to a free desk near the back and sat down, immediately starting to whisper and chatter with each other. Phil turned back in his seat to face the front. “He’s my roommate,” he whispered to PJ. PJ looked back at the boy and his friend and then back at Phil, raising his eyebrows. “Dan Howell. A massive dickhead.” 

“So, I guess you could call him Dickhead Howell?” PJ suggested. The two boys erupted into laughter. 

The door at the back of the classroom opened and this time a teacher did enter. A stern yet friendly looking woman in a navy hijab strolled into the room and walked straight over to her desk. She turned to face the class, smiling softly. “I am Professor Ansari,” she announced, “In this class, it is absolutely critical that you not only pay attention but always have each others’ back. If you are caught being vindictive towards another student, you will have detention faster than you can say, 'Oops’.”

Professor Ansari looked around the room at each student, her golden eyes glinting. “Any questions?” She turned towards the board and pulled out a dry erase marker, beginning to write down notes. Boy, she didn't hesitate at all.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: homophobic slurs

The first week of school went by rather in a flash and soon it was Sunday evening. Dan was sitting in the library, completely surrounded by towers of dusting books. His new friend Zoe was sitting next to him with her feet up on the table, flicking through an Oceanography textbook. Dan, meanwhile, was in the midst of writing his essay for History. 

“Did you know that the Great Barrier Reef is the largest living structure in the world?” Zoe asked, her eyes glued to the page. Dan nodded half-heartedly, still scribbling down his thoughts. He kept smudging the paper, sighing from his left-handedness. 

Dan yawned, flipping over to another side of the page as he finished the third paper. “Why do I have to write five pages about the fucking founding of the school? Seriously, who cares?” he said through yawns, having trouble keeping his eyes open. They felt like they were made of lead. 

Zoe shrugged, turning the page of her book. “Did Louise already go to bed?” Dan asked as he skimmed through a history textbook. He couldn't remember one of the school founders’ name for the life of him and was desperately trying to find it. 

“Yeah, I think so. She said she had a headache last time I saw her,” Zoe replied dully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She yawned. “I’m tired. I should really be getting to bed soon,” she stated, putting her feet on the ground and standing up. “Night, Dan,” she said, kissing his cheek and carrying her book out of the library. Dan smirked and shook his head knowing she hadn't actually checked the book out yet. 

Yawning again, Dan went back to writing his essay. “In 1209, the school suffered a deadly fire… which–killed 12 students,” Dan muttered, scribbling down what the textbook stated. “After the fire, the building had its first–” he yawned again, “rebuild. It gave the school… more space for another 50 students.” 

Soon, Dan’s lead eyelids became too heavy and his battle between consciousness and waking was coming to an end. As another yawn escaped his lips, he realised he was losing. In the distance he heard a clock chiming two times. Finally, the fight for continued awareness became too tiresome–literally–and he fell fast asleep with his face in his arms. 

—

“Dan! Dan! Get up!” Someone was breaking Dan’s sleeping pattern by shouting straight into his ears, making his ears ring. Dan jolted up, dry drool sticking on his cheeks. He had a crick in his neck from his sleeping position. 

Dan looked around and met a pair of azure eyes. “Phil? What’re you–why am I in the library?” He looked around at his surroundings and only just realised that he was surrounded by shelves filled to the brim with books. 

Phil was already dressed, leaning over the table only a few inches away from Dan’s face. His breath was hot and minty like his toothpaste, sending chills down Dan’s spine. “What time is it?” he asked, looking away from Phil’s intense, blue eyes. 

Phil looked down at his watch as it ticked away. “About 7:35,” he claimed, his voice casual yet mockingly cheerful. “You’re late, sunshine,” he remarked, smirking broadly. 

Dan jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair and shoved his partially finished essay into his bag. He jogged out of the library, his backpack bouncing off of his back as he made his way to the other side of the castle and towards their dorm room. 

Dan finally reached the dorm by 7:50, panting and covered in sweat. His already wavy hair was beginning to frizz even more from the sticky perspiration on his forehead. Heaving an exhausted sigh and clutching a stitch in his side, Dan pried off his t-shirt and ferreted through his drawers for a button down. 

A few minutes later, Dan was finally dressed. He was trying to quickly straighten his hair, sitting in front of the long full length mirror they shared between them when the bedroom door slammed open. Dan jumped slightly in fright, wincing when he clamped his straightener around his finger. “Fuck!” he yelped, shaking his hand as it pulsated in agony. “God dammit!” he screamed, jumping to his feet, sticking his finger in his mouth. 

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to give you a–” Phil blubbered, hurrying over to help Dan. Dan swatted him away with his free hand, scowling. “Sorry” Phil mumbled, leaning down and picking up the still warm iron. 

Dan’s eyes watered as he rushed into the bathroom to run his finger under soothing, cold water. “Can I help?” Phil asked, his voice small and shy. Dan pushed him aside. 

“Fuck off, Phil!” he snapped, slamming the door shut, making Phil squeak. Phil whimpered from the other side of the door, his blue eyes welling up in tears. “Wait, Phi–” Dan began, being interrupted when he heard their bedroom door shut and Phil’s footsteps grow quieter. “Brat,” he mumbled, turning the tap off and rifling through their first aid kit to get some burn cream and a plaster. 

Once he finished putting his plaster on, Dan quickly brushed his teeth and tried to salvage his messy hair as much as he could, combing his fingers through the brown locks. The alarm clock on Phil’s bedside table read 8:14, which meant that he had exactly a minute until he had first period. Brilliant start to the day, in Dan’s opinion. 

—

“That must have been so painful! I’m surprised you didn't get third degree burns!” Patricia Bright, one of Dan's friends, was saying during lunch later that day. Dan was sitting at a slightly crowded table with Zoe, Louise, Patricia and Nathan. 

Dan shrugged, taking a sip of his Ribena. “To be fair, you probably shouldn't have been so harsh on poor Lester,” Nathan pointed out, reaching over the table to steal one of Dan’s chips, despite having his own. “He didn't mean to give you a fright” he continued, dipping the chip into some ketchup. 

Dan scoffed, “So? He’s such an annoying pest, anyway!” Dan picked up his own chip and took a bite. “You know, the other night, he played the soundtrack of Wicked for three hours! And then he kept turning the volume up every time I complained!” Dan continued, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, looking distinctly like afiveyear old. 

“Seriously? Three hours?” Louise repeated, raising her eyebrows. Dan nodded. “Damn, he’s quite the Wicked fan,” she muttered, giggling slightly. 

“It's not funny!” Dan whined, swatting her arm in annoyance. “You try living with the absolute embodiment of a fuckingfiveyear old on Red Bull and sweets! He’s a nightmare!” Louise couldn't keep herself from laughing, and neither could the rest of the table as they burst into fits of giggles and guffaws. Soon enough, a very red-faced Dan was pouting even more. 

Nathan snorted. “Now who’s the embodiment of afiveyear old?” he snickered, earning a middle finger from Dan. Nathan shrugged, completely unashamed at his teasing. 

—

A few weeks after Dan’s Straightener Incident, Phil was sitting alone in the library, thumbing through a hardback version of The Fault In Our Stars. He had a cheesy pop song stuck in his head as he reached the scene in which Hazel goes to Augustus’s house for the first time and meets his parents. 

“Mm, baby, can't you see?” Phil mumbled, turning the page of his book. “A guy like you should wear a warning” Behind him, Phil could hear footsteps coming closer, getting increasingly louder. 

Phil dogeared his book and put it down on the table, looking around just in time to see Gregory Jackson making his way over to where Phil was sitting. He was two years above Phil, towering over him at age 13. Phil swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to discreetly get up to leave. No one wanted to be on Gregory Jackson's bad side. Not only were his fists great at punching, but his sharp tongue could do wonders to people's self-esteems. It definitely didn't help matters that he had fire powers which could burn Phil to smithereens if he really wanted to. 

“Hey, freaky Phil. Whatcha doing all alone? Don't have any friends?” Gregory sneered, a cutting smirk on his face. “What are you reading, anyway?” He leaned around Phil and picked up the bright blue hardcover. “This girly chick-lit? Really? And to think you couldn't get any gayer!” he guffawed, flicking through the pages haphazardly. 

“G-give it back, please. Th-that’s a library   
b-book,” Phil stammered, his cheeks burning a bright scarlet to contrast his normally near-translucent complexion. “Y-you’ll get us b-both in t-trouble if you m-mess it u-up,” he added, his voice growing shakier by the second. 

Gregory grinned cruelly, his eyes darkening. Phil could see that the older boy was slowly opening and closing one of his fists, as if it was trying to contract Phil’s breath. It sure felt like he was running out of air and his palms were growing sweaty. 

Finally, Gregory produced a flam in his free hand. Phil gasped, his eyes wide. “Oops, sorry, loser,” Gregory teased as he touched the fire to the book. The book promptly went up in flames and Phil barely managed to duck before he tossed the book in Phil’s direction. Phil crawled under the table with a yelp, frantically crawling towards the other end of the aisle. 

“Help! Help! Fire in the library!” He screamed, getting out from under the table and sprinting out of the library, barely keeping back the tears threatening to come forth. 

He ran all the way up to his and Dan’s dorm room where he promptly flopped onto his bed and sobbed into his green and blue pillow. He was thankful that Dan was still downstairs in the dinner hall, or else it would be extremely embarrassing to be found in this state, crying into his pillow over a burnt library book. 

Eventually, he calmed down enough to sit up, wiping his eyes. He walked into the bathroom and pulled out his contacts as they burned his eyes from the years. “Why are people so mean?” he mumbled, popping the Monthly in its special plastic container full of saline. 

—

The next day, during lunch, Dan and Louise were sitting at their usual spot, waiting for their other friends to arrive. They had been released early from their English class, so many other classmates were still on their way towards the hall. Louise was going on about a movie she wanted to see soon while Dan only half listened. For some reason, he felt himself more interested in watching his roommate, Phil Lester, talking to the older boy whom everyone knew was an asshole. 

He could tell from at leastfivetables away that Phil was terrified. He was shaking slightly and he looked paler than usual. He was recoiling away from the older boy, Gregory, as he leaned over the table with his face right next to Phil’s. 

“Whaddya think Lester did to earn Gregory Jackson’s attention?” Dan asked, interrupting his friend midway through a sentence. She looked slightly offended for a moment, but turned around to see what Dan was looking at. 

Nathan and Troye came over to join them now, sitting down just as Louise was saying, “I don't know, he seems to pick only on the weakest links.” Nathan and Troye looked over at the table as well. 

“Oh, Phil's definitely not weak. I have Earthbending with him and he’s hella strong,” Troye explained, watching as Phil nodded stiffly at something Gregory was saying. “He accidentally created a rock during class the other day and it flew through the air and hit poor Kat in the face. Nearly broke her nose,” he continued. 

At that moment, however, the talking at Phil’s table turned dark. Gregory grabbed Phil’s tray of food and poured it on his head. The lunch hall went silent as Phil jumped to his feet in shock. But it didn't end there. “Why don't you just kill yourself, freak?” Gregory snapped, producing flames in both of his hands. 

“Holy fuck, what's he playing at?”

“What the hell?”

“Someone stop him!”

People all around the hall were shouting for Gregory to stop. Phil’s friends, meanwhile, were trying helplessly to halt the scene. A girl with curly brown hair and glasses was trying to mouth off Gregory while the boy Dan recognised as Phil’s friend PJ was trying to conjure up something. No one was really quite sure. From the other side of the room, Phil looked tense and petrified and anyone looking at him could see he was close to tears. Dan’s heart clenched. 

“Do the world a favour. No one’ll care if you die,” Gregory was saying, his harsh words slicing into even Dan’s self-esteem. Phil shook his head vigorously and his dark fringe fell into his face. The next thing that happened happened in a flash of yelps, flames and a clattering sound. Gregory reached out his flaming hand to touch Phil’s hair and Phil produced a deathly loud scream as a result. Gregory stumbled back in shock so fast he bumped into a table. As he bumped into the table, he knocked someone’s try to the floor and it went tumbling down to the floor, as if in slow motion. 

As soon as Gregory was gone, Phil sprinted out of the hall in a blur of dark hair and a green tie over his shoulder. The doors to the lunch hall slammed shut, producing a quaking echo in the still and silent cafeteria. It took a good 30 seconds of shock for the hall to fall into its usual chatter and banter. Dan hadn’t noticed that he was standing. When did that happen? He thought, sitting down again. 

––

Phil disappeared for the rest of the day after he was humiliated and attacked in the school lunch hall. Everyone in his school had seen the older boy verbally harassing him and then pour his lunch contents all over him. It was right out of a high school drama. No one, however, had been expecting his harsh words and his attempt to light Phil’s hair on fire. Now that was a shock. 

Dan spent his remaining two lessons (Botany and Defence and Combat, the ones he was supposed to have with Phil) thinking about Phil. He pitied the boy and the tightness he had felt in his chest ever since proved this. Dan knew why he felt so stiff and anxious, but he didn’t know why Phil Lester was doing this to him. Perhaps it was because Dan could relate, seeing as he had been bullied for most of his life as well. Perhaps, it was just because he felt bad for not being able to help Phil when it happened. Instead, Dan watched from an awed distance as his roommate was violated by an older student. 

Dan’s head was still in the dreary, dark clouds of his thoughts after they were let out from Defence at 3:30. He told his friends he’d see them later and felt himself wandering through the castle. He wondered, rather distantly, where Phil was. Maybe he was back in their dorm, curled up in a ball of sobs and distressed shaking. Or possibly in the library with his nose in a book in an attempt to drown out the rest of the world. He could feasibly be taking a walk around the grounds as well, trying to throw his emotions in to creating something. 

Or perhaps he was crying in a boys toilet. Dan hardly even noticed the muffled crying coming from the other side of the door, but it was definitely there. Cautiously, Dan pushed the door open. The muffled crying was much louder now as he crept inside the room. 

“Phil? Phil, is that you?” Dan asked meekly, biting his lip nervously. What if it wasn't Phil? What if it was Phil, but he didn't want anything to do with Dan? They hadn't been very nice to each other, after all. 

Dan heard Phil sniffle loudly and then his small and slightly hoarse voice replied, “W-what do you want, D-Dan? C-come to laugh at m-me for earlier?” Dan shook his head, striding over to the stall phil was in. 

“No, I heard you crying from outside,” he replied, trying to keep his voice level. Now was not the time for Dan to get annoyed. “What Gregory did, it wasn't okay. I’m sorry it happened,” Dan explained shyly, toeing the floor with his trainer. 

Dan heard the soft click of the stall door unlocking and then Phil appeared in front of him. His normally cheerful and clear blue eyes were bloodshot and glassy from tears and his entire face was tinged pink. Trails of tears, both dry and wet, were etched into his face. 

“Damn, you look awful,” Dan pointed out, eyes wide with shock as he stared at the teary eyed boy in front of him. He looked like he really needed a hug right about now. 

Phil sniffled, wiping his nose on his shirt. “Gee thanks,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. He sniffed again. 

Dan held his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, sweet cheeks,” he remarked, grinning. He put his hands down. “Seriously, you look like a grieving housewife.” Phil chuckled, wiping his nose on his sleeve again. 

“Wouldn't I b-be a grieving h-husband?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Dan. Dan shrugged.   
“Nah, you look more like a sobbing woman who's just caught her husband in bed with another woman,” Dan replied shortly, grinning. Phil shook his head, letting his jet black hair fall into his face. Dan took a deep breath. “You look like you could use a friend,” he muttered, his cheeks alight. 

Phil’s cheeks washed just as crimson and he bit his lip. He shrugged. “Yeah, probably,” he replied shyly, giving Dan a weak smile. 

“What was he even saying to you before he poured your food on you?” Dan asked, sticking his hands in his pockets. Phil shook his head, blushing harsher. 

“He was using some pretty fowl language. He was just generally making fun of me, really.” Dan could tell that Phil wasn't telling him everything; Phil was avoiding eye contact now and he looked even more uncomfortable. “He… h-he called me…” he began, his eyes welling up with more tears. 

Dan couldn't help it. At the hopeless sight of Phil crying again, he pulled him into a swift hug, snaking his arms tightly around Phil’s middle. He could feel Phil shaking and his shirt getting soaked from Phil’s tears, but he couldn't care less right about now. 

“It's fine. You don't have to tell me what he called you,” he reassured him, rubbing his back up and down in what Dan hoped was a comforting way. “Just…just calm down, yeah? Breathe in and out and all that,” he continued, pulling away from Phil to look at him properly. He brushed aside Phil’s fringe and he sniffled, a soft and thankful expression on his tear-stained face. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, his cheeks burning a deep crimson again. With that, Phil pivoted on his toes and left the bathroom. The door shut softly behind him and Dan was left alone in the boy’s lavatory. 

Needless to say, the two boys didn't mention their conversation later that day. In fact, they never brought it up again. That evening, they went right back to their usual bickering as Dan complained about Phil leaving his socks on Dan’s side of the room.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of angst in this chapter(Phil is an asshole in most of it, basically)

Dan was sprawled out on his white comforter with a copy of his Potions textbook propped open against his pillows. Meanwhile, his friend Louise was sitting in Dan’s desk chair, flicking through The Perks of Being A Wallflower, her eyebrows knit together in focus. 

“What did you get in the Potions exam yesterday?” Dan asked after a while of sitting in comfortable silence. His heart was beating anxiously as he attempted to study for his upcoming potions exam. It was late October now and all the teachers were piling on the tests and homework for everyone. 

Louise leaned back in her seat, biting her lip as she tried to remember her mark for the exam. “I got an 87,” she remarked, going back to reading her book. Well, Dan’s book; she stole it off of his bookshelf. “Why? Are you nervous?” 

Dan sighed, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself down. “Little bit, yeah. I keep forgetting the ingredients needed in a Healing Potion,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“Simple. Beet roots, crushed buttercup flowers, bazil, ground dragonfly wings and red onions,” she explained, listing off on her manicured fingers. She had a pretty shade of dark purple on them, which mesmerised Dan to no end. 

Dan groaned, flopping his face into his pillows. “Ugh, I’m never gonna remember,” he whined, his voice muffled by the white cushion. “I hate this class,” he added, sitting up on his elbows, a deep scowl on his face. 

He felt the bed dip as Louise sat down next to him on the bed, running her hands through his hair in a calming pattern. He hardly cared that it would definitely be messing up his hair. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Dan. It wasn't that hard of a test,” she reassured. Dan turned his head to look up at the blonde girl. 

“I dunno, I just feel like I’m gonna fail,” he admitted, biting his lip. Dan ran a nervous hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Please euthanise me, Lou. I want death. This potions homework is going to be the death of me.” He dropped his face into the pillows again. 

Louise patted his back just as the door to their room opened. Phil entered the room, followed closely behind by his friend, Chris. Dan turned his head to see who it was, rolling his eyes and covering his face with his pillow again. 

“...Granted, it was a weird idea,” Chris was saying as he sat down on Phil’s desk chair, “But hell, that's what happens when you think that eating soap is normal.” Phil giggled brightly, shaking his head at his friend’s rant. 

Phil plopped down on top of his bed, shaking his bag of Sweet and Salty popcorn and tossing a few in his mouth. “Oh, Dodie invited us to her room on Friday, by the way. We’re trying to decide between watching a Harry Potter movie or The Room,” Phil rambled, stuffing more popcorn pieces in his mouth. 

“I have a really good joke,” Phil announced to his friend, beaming like a toddler, “Wanna hear it?” Chris nodded vigorously, taking a few of Phil’s popcorn bits. “Why did the lifeguard kick the elephants out of the pool?” 

“Why?” 

“Because they kept dropping their trunks!” The two boys burst out laughing, clutching their sides. Phil was rolling around his bed, close to crying from laughing so hard. “I have another one!” he said once he had started to calm down. “When my grandpa was 65, he started running a mile a day. Now, he’s 70 and we have no idea where he is.” 

Louise cleared her throat as Chris and Phil laughed again. “Hey, Dan? I’m gonna get going. I should get back to my room,” she whispered, earning a pout from Dan. “Sorry, love. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she added, smiling softly and patting Dan’s head before swiftly exiting the dorm. 

Dan groaned and buried his face deeper in his pillow as Chris offered up his own joke. An hour later, they were still talking and laughing non-stop and Dan could feel himself getting more and annoyed by the second. When Phil made a joke about people walking into a bar, Dan jolted to a seating position. 

“For goodness sake, go to bed. It is literally like ten o’clock and you're still not in your stupid room. Get out!” he snapped, scowling with a fury to rival a forest fire. Chris looked sideways at Phil, eyes wide and questioning. “Get out! Go away!” Chris held his hands up in mock surrender and gave Phil a small look before leaving the room. 

Once Chris was gone, Dan sighed deeply and flopped onto his back, putting his face in his hands. “You didn't have to be so rude about it, you know,” Phil said quietly, his small and anxious voice edged with annoyance. 

Dan sat up and looked at Phil like he was looking at the bottom of his shoe after stepping in dog poop. “You don't have to be so annoying either, but here we are!” he growled, eyeing Phil furiously. 

Something about Dan’s sentence set Phil off and something within him snapped. “You're such a jerk! Why do you have to be so mean to absolutely everyone?” he yelled, standing up from his bed and crossing his arms on his chest.   
Dan scoffed, standing up as well. “I’m not a jerk! It's frickin ten at night and you and your stupid friend are laughing your asses off and talking about nerd crap!” he countered, balling his hands into tight fists that etch crescents into his palms with his nails. 

“He isn't stupid! Shut up!” Phil whined, his voice strained and upset. “All of your friends are just as bad, you know! You’re all always gossiping and laughing at people. None of your dumb friends have anything intelligent to say and neither do you!” Dan gasped, scowling deeper, if that was even possible. 

“I hate you,” Dan snapped, his jaw tightening in frustration. “I hate all your freak friends and I hate your stupid jokes and I hate how much of a child you are!” He was ranting now, coming out with the harshest things he could think of in his anger. 

“Well, I hate you, too!” Phil hollered back, his eyes glassy with wet frustration. “You’re always complaining and being mean to my friends and you're an asshole to everyone!” A few tears rolled down Phil’s cheeks, which he swiftly wiped away with the back of his hand. 

Dan rolled his eyes. “I’m not an asshole, freak. You’re just a huge nuisance and I wish I didn't have to share a room with you and your weird crap!” Phil teared up more at Dan's comment a droplet rolling down his cheek again. 

“Shut up!” he screamed, sitting down on the bed again, “Just shut up! I hate you so much and I wish you weren't my roommate!” Tears were rolling down his face rapidly now and he was struggling to breathe properly, now. “Why are so mean?” he asked, his voice quiet and broken. 

Dan scoffed, taking a deep breath to keep from crying himself. “Screw off, Phil! This us why no one likes you!” he snapped, his voice shaky. Even quaking he was close to punching something. 

Phil gasped, eyes wide. “Shut up!” he screamed, desperately. He sniffled, trying to calm down even though he was nowhere near that. “I wish you were dead!” Dan’s breath hitched and he felt his eyes welling up with acidic tears. 

“Freak!” he retorted, his face hot and scarlet. He ignored Phil’s flinch. “I hate you, you freak! I’d rather be dead anyway than having to talk to you!” Tears rained down his face in rivulets, which he ignored. 

“Go away!” Phil screamed, edging on a sob. “I wish you were dead!” 

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Dan stormed out of the room, heaving with tears that threatened to drown him. He slammed the door shut behind him and ran down the hall, choking down a sob. At this moment, he realised he had never hated anyone as much as he loathed Phil at this time. He kicked one of the walls, barely keeping himself from screaming and waking others up. It was almost 11, now. 

Once he had his anger out of his system, Dan made his way back to the room. He was still sniffling slightly and his body ached from the emotional stress. Phil was already in bed, fast asleep and curled around his blue and green pillow, one of his fists gripping the paw of his bear. Dan sighed and climbed into his own bed, sniffing again. He’d apologise tomorrow. 

—

Things were tense between them for the next few days. They didn't say a word to each other, simply coexisting in their room. Both of them were too afraid of setting the other off and having another argument that ended in tears on both parties. It was like walking on eggshells whenever they were in each other’s presence. 

Phil was sitting in the library a few days after the argument with PJ. They were supposed to be studying for their upcoming Geology exam, but Phil was finding it nearly impossible to focus. PJ, who was copying his notes about types of rocks, looked up at Phil who was staring into middle distance, his chin in his hand. 

PJ waved his hand in front of Phil’s face, trying to get his attention. Phil startled, looking curiously at PJ. “Sorry, what? Did you say something?” Phil blubbered, shaking his fringe out of his eyes. 

PJ rolled his eyes, smirking. “No. You were just staring off into the distance like Gatsby or something,” he commented, “Something on your mind, Philly?” He ruffled Phil’s hair with his hand. 

Phil shrugged. “Not really… I just–I’m just thinking about my argument with Dan the other day,” he admitted, blushing lightly. 

PJ nodded, listening to what he was explaining. Phil had, of course, told him about the argument the following day, telling him about the explosives shouting and mutual tears. Phil felt a little bad for telling Dan he wished he was dead, but in the heat of the moment, he thought of the worst thing he could say. 

“It happened almost a week ago, Phil. Let it go or apologise,” PJ said, closing his textbook. Phil groaned and put his face on the desk. “You both said crappy things, so just apologise and be the bigger person.” 

Phil shook his head. “Not unless he apologises. He made fun of you guys as well,” Phil insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s always saying rude things about you guys and he was the one to start the argument in the first place.”

“Yeah, but you told him you wished he was dead. Isn't that a bit harsh?” PJ reminded, sighing and opening his textbook again. “You could have just ignored him or something, but you argued back and said just as rude, if not worse, things to him.”

Phil shrugged, rolling his crystalline blue eyes. PJ sighed. “It hardly matters who was to blame. Just apologise and be the bigger person,” PJ repeated, “I’m not saying you have to become the guy’s best friend or anything. Just apologise for being an ass.” 

Phil groaned, putting his head in his hands in frustration. “But he's mean. I don't want to apologise to him. He’s always coming back to the room late and waking me up and then he’s always taking too long in the bathroom. He moves my stuff all the time when I leave it out and then I can't find it!” Phil rambled, “He nearly lit the room on fire the other day because he forgot to unplug his straighteners again!”

PJ huffed through his nostrils, reminding Phil abundantly of a bull about to charge. “So you’ve said about a million times,” PJ muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Phil to hear him. “Either stop complaining and get over it or go and tell him you're sorry. I’m getting sick of having to listen to your constant whining 24/7 about the guy.” 

Phil gasped defensively. “You try sharing a room with him! He’s an incessant nuisance and I hate him,” Phil whined, standing up from his seat so fast it fell to the floor with a clang of metal on linoleum. “If you were a good friend, you’d listen to me instead of just ignoring every single thing I say!” 

PJ stood up as well, narrowing his eyes at Phil. “That's not fair, Phil. I always listen to you when you complain about your stupid roommate. You on the other hand never listen to me because you’re too busy talking about your own problems!” Phil’s jaw dropped and he stumbled backwards, barely keeping from falling over his chair. “Well, if I’m such a bad friend, then why don't you just leave! I don't wanna be friends anyway!” he shouted, throwing his bag over his shoulders and stormed out of the library, fuming as if he was made of steam. 

He stormed all the way up to his bedroom to find Dan lying in bed, leaning over his Botany homework, his slightly curled fringe falling into his face. He looked up as soon as Phil stomped into the room wearing a scowl and scarlet cheeks. “Woah, what's got you all upset?” Dan asked upon looking at the boy. 

“Leave me alone, weirdo!” Phil snapped, throwing his bag on the floor. Dan raised his eyebrows skeptically, crossing his arms. 

“Calm down, dork. What's got your pants in a twist?” Dan mocked, smirking at Phil’s obvious anger and annoyance. 

Phil stormed over to the bathroom door. “Leave me alone you weirdo. You’re such a waste of space!” he snapped, kicking the bathroom door open. Dan’s lip quivered at the end of Phil’s sentence and his normally clear golden brown eyes were dark like mud. 

“St-stop. What the hell did I do to you this time?” Dan mumbled, getting up from the bed. He wiped a stray tear from his cheek and left the room in an instant. Just before the door slammed shut behind him, Phil heard a soft, badly muffle sob escape Dan's lips. 

“Shit.” 

—

“I’m not apologising,” Phil insisted that evening at dinner. PJ was sitting at another table that evening with one of his other friends outside of the group, Maya. Chris, immediately noticing PJ’s absence, asked what happened. 

After explaining about their argument in the library and then snapping at Dan, Chris and Dodie both agreed that Phil should apologize, but being the stubborn boy he was, he was adamant that he didn't apologise first. 

“Phil, you made Dan cry. He’s not exactly easy to break,” Dodie replied to Phil’s continued obstinacy. Chris, meanwhile, was silently nodding in agreeance.   
“He clearly is. He cried the last time we argued, remember?” Phil pointed out, stabbing his piece of salad with a fork. The metal clanged loudly on the ceramic bowl, making Dodie jump in surprise and several people at surrounding tables turn to find the source of the noise. 

Chris swallowed down some of his apple juice and said, “Well, you did tell him you wished he was dead. It's not exactly a nice thing to hear someone say.” Phil crossed his arms again, leaning in his chair. “Plus, you never know. Maybe he has thought about that before and you just made it worse?” he added, cutting a piece of steak and taking a bite. “This is too cold,” he muttered, producing a flame on the tip of his finger and touching it to the meat until it was a sufficient colour. 

Phil paled significantly, going even more translucent than normal. “What if he has? What if I made everything worse for him?!” Phil cried, eyes wide with terror. He looked around frantically for Dan, but he was missing from his friend group’s usual table. “But I can't apologise to him! Then I’ll be the loser!” he whined, pushing aside his plate and putting his face in his arms. 

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder and then Dodie said, “Phil, just apologise to them both. It isn't a competition, so there's no winner or loser. Just apologise.” Phil sat up, looking sideways at Dodie. “You hurt them and the least you can do is say you're sorry,” she added, smiling shyly at him. 

Phil sighed and looked down at his wristwatch. “I… I’m gonna go and apologise to PJ, first,” he said, standing up from his seat and starting determinedly towards PJ’s table. PJ looked up at him as he neared him, putting his fork and knife down. “Uh, PJ, can I talk to you for a sec? In private.” He eyed Maya as she looked up at him with thickly lined green eyes. 

PJ shrugged and stood up, putting his napkin on the table. Phil marched out of the hall, listening to PJ’s footsteps behind him. The huge metal door shut behind them, echoing in the hallway. The two boys stood facing each other, PJ sticking his hands in his pockets. Phil bounced nervously on his heels. 

“I’m really really really really sorry about yesterday, PJ. I feel awful for snapping at you when you're the one who always listens to me and my problems. I feel like such a crappy friend,” Phil blurted, trying to keep the silence shorter than needed. 

PJ nodded. “You kinda were, but I forgive you,” he replied, smiling at Phil to show he was being genuine. 

Phil shook his head. “You shouldn't. I should have listened to you,” he said, “I’m a terrible person and I don't deserve you as a best friend. I feel horrible for ignoring you and complaining about my stupid roommate so much.” 

PJ reached out and held Phil’s hands between them. “Phil Lester, you’re not a terrible person. You made some mistakes, but we’re literally 11. We’re both going to make a trillion mistakes as we grow up, but don't you dare think you’re a bad person,” he insisted, his eyes serious and determined. Phil blushed, smiling at his friend as he tried to comfort him. Phil realised that, at this moment, he had the best friend he could ever ask for. 

“I’m still sorry for yesterday, though, but thank you, Peej,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady as he teared up slightly. At this rate, his eyes were going to fall out from how much he was crying recently. He pulled PJ into a quick hug and then added, “I should go upstairs and apologise to Dan.” 

PJ raised his eyebrows. “Finally?”

Phil chuckled, wiping a stray tear from his face. “Kind of. After we argued, I went back to the room and I snapped at Dan and I made him cry…” he admitted, blushing profusely and avoiding eye contact. 

PJ shook his head, face palming. “Seriously, Phil? You made him cry?” Phil shrugged, biting his lip. “Go and apologise to him. For everything.” PJ shoved Phil towards the stairs, urging him to go apologise. 

Phil reached their room a few minutes later, his heart beating out of his chest. He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and unlocked the door. Dan was sitting up in bed, hugging a pillow to his chest, his knees up to his chin. He looked like he had been crying, his eyes bloodshot and his face scarlet. Upon Phil’s entrance, Dan looked up, wiping his nose violently with his sleeve. 

“What do you want, Phil? Come to yell at me again?” he snapped, looking down at his socks. They were covered in pugs. Phil shook his head, sitting down at the foot of Dan’s bed, flattening out the creases. “Get off of my bed, Phil,” Dan demanded monotonously, his eyes darkening significantly. 

Phil hopped up and sat down on his own bed, staring at Dan to get his attention. “I came to say I’m sorry,” he muttered, wringing his hands in his lap. 

Dan eyed Phil suspiciously, as if he didn't quite believe his ears. “Wait, what?” he clarified, “You want to apologise?” Phil nodded, biting his lip. 

“For everything. I shouldn't have told you I wish you were dead and I shouldn't have said what I said yesterday,” he rambled, “I’m so so sorry I was such an awful person to you. I know you probably won't forgive me, but—”

“I forgive you.” Of all the things Phil was expecting, forgiving him immediately was not one of them. “I’m sorry, too. For snapping at you the other day, too.” Phil nodded, biting his lip. He had no idea how to reply to this, but he felt he had to do something. 

“I’m sorry, Dan…” he whispered, looking down at his lap, still shifting around in his seat constantly. He was filled to the brim with nervous energy, bobbing his knee up and down. “Seriously.” 

“It’s fine. I was shit, too. It was a two way   
street,” Dan replied. Phil finally looked up at him, his face bright crimson and boiling hot. 

“Th-thank you,” Phil blurted, “For… for forgiving me, I mean.” Dan shrugged, wiping his face again, sniffling. Phil felt awful seeing him like this, vulnerable and awkward and teary-eyed. It felt even worse knowing he was to blame. 

Regardless, the two boys went back to normal after their mutual apology. For them, normal was an abundance of eye rolls and grumbling about leaving things lying around or listening to music too loudly. They had accepted by now that they would probably never have a normal or healthy or even friendly relationship between them. But it was fine because they didn't make each other cry for the rest of the year. And that was an accomplishment.


	5. Chapter Five

★Time skip to next year★

The first day of second year came too quickly for Phil’s liking. After a long and relaxing summer, Phil had forgotten all about how tough some of his lessons were going to be. He was in the midst of walking through the station, making his way to the platform. He was giddy with anticipation of finally seeing his friends, PJ, Chris, and Dodie again. It was almost 12 too, so he would be making his way to school in only a few minutes. 

As he made his way through the ticket collection, he heard a loud screech rattling through the station. “What the?” he exclaimed, dropping his ticket on the concrete floor. Phil leaned down and picked up his ticket, looking around wildly for the source of the noise. 

“PHIL! PHILIP LESTER!” the same person shrieked. Before Phil could find the owner of the shrill, excited voice, he was practically tackled by someone in all white. “Phil! Philly! It's so great to see you!” Phil grinned as he realised it was Dodie who was hugging him and screaming through the entire train station. 

He pulled out of her grasp to get a good look at her, unable to help the smile that was breaking through. She looked just as sweet and cheerful as when he had last seen her, her thick glasses resting daintily on her nose. “Dodie! How are you? How was your holiday?” he greeted once he had given her a once over. 

“Ugh, it was so great,” she replied, grinning broadly, “But I still missed my little Philly!” she added, pulling him into a bear hug again. She felt taller, somehow. Phil thought distantly that she must have grown. He also noticed, rather begrudgingly, that she was thinner. He brushed this thought aside and focused on hugging his friend again. 

Dodie pulled away a few seconds later, still beaming. She was absolutely radiating. “How was yours?” she asked, pulling her ticket out of her back pocket. 

Phil shrugged, sticking his ticket inside the ticket box. “It was pretty dull. We went to the Isle of Man for a weekend in July to visit my grandparents, but that was about it,” he replied, stepping through the barrier. Dodie followed along, sticking her own ticket in the collecting machine. 

They put their trunks with the rest of the bags and made their way onto the train. They made their way through the train corridors, looking inside the different compartments to find their other friends. After 15 minutes, the train started to exit the station just as they reached a compartment occupied by PJ, Chris and a girl Phil didn't recognise. 

They pulled aside the door and entered the compartment. “Phil! Dodie! Hey!” Chris chimed, jumping to his feet to pull them both into a tight group hug. “How are ya?” he asked, pulling away and sitting down in his seat again. 

“Hey, guys!” PJ chirped, jumping up and hugging Phil and then Dodie. He wasn't much for group hugs. “Sit down, sit down! We’ll introduce you guys to our friend!” he added, gesturing to the girl sitting across from him. She had long relaxed hair falling around her shoulders and a pair of thick glasses on her nose. 

Phil sat down next to PJ, grinning at his friend fondly. PJ was Phil’s absolute best friend. They had had their ups and downs, but they were still the closest they could be. “Dodie, Phil, this is Nikita Cox. Her mum’s friends with mine,” PJ announced, showcasing the girl with opened arms. “Niki, the lovely girl in white is Dodie Clark and the nerdy emo kid with a side fringe is Phil Lester,” he added, pointing at them in turn. Phil elbowed his friend in the side at his description, pouting dramatically. 

“It's nice to meet you guys,” she said, smiling. Phil was rather taken aback to recognise an American accent. 

Phil looked sideways at Chris, raising his eyebrows. “You have an American accent!” he exclaimed, earning a sharp elbow in the side from PJ. 

Nikita(Niki, as Phil guessed she must go by) chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, you tend to get one when you live in America your whole life, funnily enough,” she replied sarcastically, smirking. “I only moved here in August,” she added. 

“Cool. What do you think of it? Better? Worse?” he asked, his hands in his lap. Niki opened her mouth to reply when the door to the compartment opened and she was cut short. 

The door squeaked loudly and suddenly Dan Howell entered. “I thought the carriage was suddenly warmer! Turns out the fucking sun from the Teletubbies is in here,” he drawled, eyeing Phil. “I heard there's a new American student here. Is it you?” he asked, smiling down at Niki. She gaped up at him, eyes wide, and nodded stiffly. 

“Hey, Howell. What're you doing here?” Phil asked darkly, frowning at the boy standing before him. Dan chuckled. 

Ignoring Phil’s question, he turned to Nikita, holding out his hand. “I’m Dan Howell. What's your name, Americana?” Nikita shook his hand, her eyes still staring intensely at him. If Phil didn't know any better, he would expect her to shoot lasers out of her eyes with the intensity in which she gazed at him. 

“N-Nikita. Nikita Cox,” she replied, her voice significantly higher pitch. Oh no, Phil thought, she’s got a crush on Howell. She took her hand away from Dan’s looking down at it in her lap as if she had never seen a hand before.

“Glad I can put a face to the rumour. Hopefully I’ll get to see you later.” Dan grinned at Nikita, his eyes twinkling and his pupils dilated. And then he winked. Phil swore he could vomit. He winked. Phil rolled his eyes and silently thanked the Gods when Dan finally turned and left. 

As soon as he was gone and the door was shut, Phil scoffed. “Any reason why Howell just came to say hello?” PJ asked the compartment, looking back and forth. 

Phil shook his head. “Not at all. That was the most random thing I have ever seen,” he replied, rolling his eyes. 

“Wait, what's wrong with him? He seemed friendly,” Niki remarked, knitting her eyebrows in confusion. “Are you guys not friends?” Everyone else in the compartment shook their heads, gaping at the oblivious, lovestruck girl who had only just joined their group. 

Chris broke the silence, clearly in need of a subject change. “So, how was everyone’s summer holiday?” he asked, looking between his friends. PJ fell into a long story about his family when they went to Jamaica for a week in July, acting out just about everything. 

Once everyone had gone over their breaks, all varying in amusement, they spent the rest of the ride trying out their powers. Phil had taught himself how to produce a flower on the tip of his finger, meanwhile Chris could make his fire change colours. Everyone was having a wild time comparing their feats and tricks, laughing and joking and teasing until it was dark outside and they reached the school’s station. 

As he clambered inside the carriage behind Niki, Phil grinned broadly as he realised he would be able to spend all of his time with these dorks he loved again. The tinge of happiness, however, didn't last long as it reminded him of back home. He didn't have this back home. He didn't have this sense of belonging or likableness or even much discernibility. It was bittersweet being back. 

—

The next morning, Dan woke up as a pillow hit him in the head. Groaning and rolling onto his stomach, Dan buried his head under his pillows again. “Get up or you’ll be late, brat,” Phil’s shrill, and slightly hoarse voice snapped as he hit Dan with the pillow again. 

Phil disappeared in the bathroom, shutting the door loudly behind him. Yawning expressively, Dan sat up in bed, blinking around the room as he tried to wake up a bit more. He was definitely not used to waking up early yet. He scratched his head and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He padded over to his chest of drawers and rifled through his clothes until he pulled out his clean white shirt and tie. He hopped into his trousers, zipping them closed and buttoned his shirt. 

He was in the midst of tying his tie when Phil emerged from the toilet, toothbrush dangling from his mouth, foam on his lips. He was humming a tune as he stalked over to his own chest of drawers and pulled out his tie; he was already dressed in his shirt and trousers. As soon as he had his tie, he re-entered the bathroom. 

Dan plugged in his straighteners and sat down in front of their shared mirror, waiting for the appliance to heat up. “You can use the toilet, now,” Phil mumbled, marching into the room as Dan moved onto his second strand of hair. Dan nodded, grunting to acknowledge him. 

Phil packed his backpack while Dan brushed his teeth and went to the toilet. Soon after Dan had gone into the bathroom, he heard their dorm room door open and shut with a soft click as Phil went down to breakfast, leaving Dan all alone. He shrugged to himself and flushed the toilet, leaning over the sink to spit the minty foam into the sink. 

—

“Welcome, Second Years, to your first lesson of Botany,” Professor Fitzpatrick announced that morning during first period. All of the newly aged 12 year olds had to trudge all the way to the greenhouses to begin their first Botany lesson of the year. A few of the students, mostly Earthen students, were giddy and excited, while most others were yawning both out of tiredness and boredom. Phil was up at the front of the crowd of pupils, ready to begin his best and favourite class. 

“Please line up at the front of the room so that I may partner you all up for the year,” Professor Fitzpatrick was saying. There were many whispers of disagreement and protest at this news, even including Phil, but they were quickly silenced by the harsh, cold stare of their teacher. “Any objections?” he asked, gaining no answers, “Good. Then get to the front of the classroom!” 

The students all filed shoulder to shoulder at the back of the greenhouse, pushing and shoving past each other. Dan swore under his breath as someone stood on his foot. “Right,” Professor Fitzpatrick hollered, clapping his hands together, “Let us begin, Genevieve Alexander and Jerome Filch!” The quick-witted teacher began calling off pairs of students who, usually begrudgingly, made their way to stations filled with pots of dirt and decaying leaves. 

He was getting to the end of his list and now there was only Dan, Phil and another two students Dan knew by face but not name. They must be Earthen students, since he didn't know them. He crossed his fingers discreetly behind his back, hoping against hoping he wasn't partnered up with Phil. 

However, seeing as the universe didn't seem to want him to be happy, Professor Fitzpatrick called, “Dan Howell and Phil Lester.” Dan narrowly kept himself from swearing, instead marching over to one of the last stations. Phil followed suit, standing across from him. 

The other two students(“Emilia Joseph and Ben Hollander!”) made their way over to the last two pots and Professor Fitzpatrick nodded around the room, grinning almost cruelly, as if he knew most of his pairings were less than desired. 

“For today’s lesson, we will begin our work with Nepenthes plants, commonly known as Pitcher Plants,” he announced, pulling out a tray full of tube-shaped plants covered in red and green dapples. They were all about the size of Professor Fitzpatrick’s hand and hung limply on their stems. He also produced a tray full of varying dead creatures like beetles and flies and even, to most students’ horror, a couple of dead rats. 

“The pitcher plant is a carnivorous plant which feasts on any creature which falls into its cylindrical trap,” he explained, holding up one of the pots for the students to see better. “Today, we will be 'feeding’ the Nepenthes different creatures so that in our next class period, they will be ready to be repotted.”

Murmurs and whispers filled the room as students discussed their task at hand. Meanwhile, Professor Fitzpatrick went around the room passing each pair a pot and a cup of a few dead 'victims’. Even Phil, of whom everyone knew loved this class, looked sick to his stomach as Professor Fitzpatrick handed him the pot containing the tubular plant. He passed Dan the cup filled with several beetles, a fly and to his horror, a tiny mouse. 

Dan couldn't help the gag that he produced. 

“We have to feed the plant dead animals?” he clamors in horror, looking down at the dead creatures in front of him. Phil nodded, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself down. Phil took the cup full of critters and put it down on the table alongside the pot. “You can do the feeding. I’ll repot it tomorrow because there is no way in hell that I am going to do that,” Dan insisted, trying to keep from looking at the dead beings. 

Phil scoffed. “I’m not doing all the work, Howell. You have to do some work as well,” he snapped, his blue eyes darkening. Their normally bright and crystalline blue had clouded over like the sky on a rainy day. “It's not that hard. They're already dead, anyway,” he added, crossing his arms in front of him. 

Dan copied his stance, narrowing his own eyes at Phil. Unfortunately, there was just something about how Phil’s suddenly held a fury to compete with a house fire that made him agree to feeding the pitcher half of the creatures. 

“Ergh, that's disgusting!” A girl at the next station blanched, looking down as their plant began to 'digest’ a horsefly. Julian, a boy who Dan sat next to in a few classes last year, was staring at the plant in horrified awe, his eyes wide. 

“Okay, do you wanna go first or shall I?” Phil asked, interrupting Dan’s eavesdropping on the group nearby. Dan shrugged apathetically, turning away from the other students’ work. Phil sighed aggravatedly. “Fine, I’ll go first,” he said, picking up the cup. “Hold the pot so I can put the… beetle in it,” he ordered, picking up a jewel-toned beetle by a leg. He looked almost accusingly at it. 

Intimidated by Phil’s dominating words, Dan grabbed the ceramic container and held it out for Phil. Carefully and precisely, Phil pushed the beetle inside the circular opening of the plant, recoiling somewhat as the plant immediately started to ingest the insect. 

Phil reached out and took the pot from Dan’s hands. “Okay, now you feed it something. It’s almost finished digesting,” he requested, nodding his chin at the cup. With shaking hands, Dan reached for the white cup of insects and the mouse. Retching silently, Dan reached into the container and pulled at random a slightly crushed spider that was missing a few legs. 

“Oh, my God,” he muttered, shivering moderately from his mild arachnophobia. “Oh my God. Jesus Christ,” he continued, trying to keep from looking at the spider. He couldn't do it and ended up gagging loudly. 

In his hurry to get the spider into the tube as soon as possible, he dropped the cup and just about punched the pant, making Phil drop it on the floor with a crash. “Shit,” Dan swore, watching in slow motion as the bowl clattered to the greenhouse floor. 

“DAN!” Phil shrieked, his eyes furious and menacing. Almost deadly. Dan backed away. “Dan, you useless git, look what you did! Can you do something right in this class for once?” Phil spat, seething like a boiling pot. 

“Me? You’re the one that dropped the stupid pot!” he shouted back, pointing an accusing finger at his roommate. All around, the classmates and professor were staring at them in shocked silence, a few people with their jaws dropped. 

Phil scoffed. “Yeah? But you're the one that freaked out over a stupid spider and practically punched the pot!” Phil snarled, bending down to start cleaning the broken pot from the ground. 

“It was a spider that was literally half crushed and missing like three legs!” Dan exclaimed, nearly knocking over another pair’s pot to the floor as he threw his arms out in emphasis. 

Phil stood up, putting a few shards on the counter. He stares intensely at Dan, his eyes dark. They were, however, slightly less dark, now. Nonetheless, they were still terrifying. “It's a spider, Howell. Stop acting like a pansy and help me clean up. At least do something right,” he snapped, putting another burgundy fragment on the table. 

Dan’s eyes widened and he felt his stomach drop to the floor. “You know what?” he spat, “Fuck. You.” Without another look at the other people in the room or any of the mess he had made, Dan turned swiftly on his toes and stormed out of the greenhouse, slamming the glass door shut. Thankfully, it was a sturdy glass, so it didn't break from his erratic and anger-ridden slam. 

“Dan, wait—” Phil attempted, his voice suddenly small and fearful. He spent the rest of the lesson cleaning up the mess while the rest of the class went back to work. Once the bell at the school went off, he let everyone else go ahead while he finished cleaning up. 

Once he finished cleaning Dan’s mess, he threw the broken shards, dead animals and limp plant in a trash bin and apologised to his teacher on the way out. He droned all the way up to the castle in a sort of daze, his argument with Dan replying in his mind over and over and over again. 

Dan didn't show up for any of his lessons for the rest of the day. 

When Phil got back to their room, he was distantly thankful to find Dan there. He was typing volantly on his iPhone, his eyebrows knitted together in extreme focus. He hardly looked up when Phil entered the room. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil barely uttered, his voice even quieter than a whisper. Before Dan could react, Phil made his way into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When he came out a few minutes later, dressed in his boxers and shirt, Dan was already fast asleep with his knees to his chest. 

Phil exhaled loudly and pulled off his school shirt. He shoved it into his clothes hamper and dug around his drawers for a t-shirt, eventually pulling out a blue Nyan Cat shirt. He put it over his head and climbed into bed. 

He stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. He had a strange ache in his chest, which he loosely related to worry, still replaying the events from his first class of the day. He looked sideways in the darkness to look at Dan’s silhouette, his stomach tying in a half anxious knot. The other half, he couldn't explain the reason for. 

If he was going to have to continue to work with Dan for the rest of the year, he wasn't sure he would be able to survive. If their following classes went like this, they were both doomed and the school would probably end up in ruins.


	6. Chapter Six

★Time Skip another year (sorry not sorry)★

Their second year passed by rather slowly. Dan ended up making Phil cry at least 30 times from their ceaseless fighting about petty and pointless things. At one point, Dan told Phil to fuck himself and he ended up sleeping in the supply cupboard down the hall. It had been a long and uncomfortable night for Phil. 

Close to the end of the year, Phil walked into their bedroom to find Dan and Niki perched on Dan’s bed, kissing. Phil screamed and sprinted out of the room. He was mute for another two days until he blurted to PJ during lunch one day, “DAN AND NIKI KISSED AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THIS OR WHY I WANT TO KILL BOTH OF THEM.” He couldn't make eye contact with Dan for over a week. Needless to say, Dan and Phil still were not on the best of terms. 

Now, at age 13, Dan was strolling through the aisles of the school train in search of his friends. He nearly missed the train because his mother decided five minutes before they had to leave was a good time to lecture Dan about his apparent disrespect. He had offhandedly told her to go away after she endlessly complained about his habits, which meant that Dan was a “disrespectful cunt” as she put it. He was nearly in tears by the time they finally left, ten minutes after they were supposed to. 

Dan passed by Phil and his friends’ compartment and stopped abruptly, stumbling to a halt. Nikita Cox, his kind-of girlfriend, was inside having a conversation with Dodie Clark. He tapped on the window, waving at Niki, who waved back, and then continued his journey through the train. 

Eventually, he came across the open car, where Reah North, Patricia Bright and Troye Sivan Mellet were sitting around a table. “Hey, Dan! Come and join us!” Reah chimed upon his entrance, gesturing towards her. Dan stumbled over to their seats, nearly falling over as the train rattled down the tracks. 

Dan sat down in the seat next to Rhea, smiling at his friends. “So, how were your summers?” he asked, looking between them. Troye shrugged and explained how he went back to Australia with his family for most of the break. Reah told a story about getting hit on at a resort in Tenerife and Patricia talked about running into their other friend Kat one day while shopping. 

“So, how was your break, Dan?” Reah rebounded as Patricia finished her story. “We all talked about our summer, what did you do?” she added. 

Dan shrugged, cleaning his nails for dirt. “Uh, not much, really. We didn't go anywhere,” he replied bashfully, his cheeks turning crimson. “I went to see my friend from my old school, Jemma, though,” he added as an afterthought. 

The door to the carriage swung open and in walked Louise Pentland. “Lou Lou!” Dan screamed, jumping from his seat and tripping through the aisle to pull his best friend into a bear hug. “Oh my Lord, I missed you,” he whispered. 

Louise giggled and murmured back, “I missed you too, doofus.” They pulled apart and Dan dragged Louise by her wrist over to the seats again. Since there was an empty table right across from it, Dan and Louise slipped in across from each other in the aisle seats. Dan grinned, his dimple popping. He hadn't smiled that much in months. 

The fivesome fell into easy, comfortable conversation revolving around just about anything that came to mind. Louise ended up falling into the aisle at one point from laughing so hard at a joke Dan made. Their friend Nathan Zed joined them about half an hour into the train ride, claiming to have been talking to his friend outside the group, Mark. 

“So, now, here I was sitting with my ass stuck in the toilet, full on sobbing, and guess who walks in?” Reah was saying, telling the story of how she got stuck in a toilet and her school crush had to help her get out.   
Dan gasped. “Oh my God, it was Finn, wasn't it?” Louise squealed, grabbing Rhea's arm from across the aisle with both hands. Rhea nodded and the group exploded into laughter. 

“It was so embarrassing!” she exclaimed, her olive cheeks reddening in embarrassment. She put her face in her hands. “It doesn't even end there!” she added, sitting up again. 

It was all too soon when the train pulled into Draxicord Station an hour later. Exhausted and giddy, the group of six shuffled their way into a carriage being pulled along by one of the metal horses. Dan patted its head before getting in last. Louise was telling a story about her trousers ripping in front of her class when she was five. 

“...And then, as soon as I bent down to pick it up, there was this loud RIP noise and my trousers ripped,” she was saying while the other people in the vehicle leaned forwards trying to listen to her traumatic story. 

Dan chuckled, sitting down next to Louise. “I ended up crying in a corner for like an hour after. It was absolutely mortifying,” Louise continued, scooting over an inch to give Dan more room to sit. The carriage started its descent just after Dan sat down, making his heart jolt in fright. 

Dan loved coming home to the castle every September. It was such a gorgeous castle with huge turrets, completely surrounded by different sections of elements. There was a section for Fire, a section for Earth, a section for Water and a section for Air. On nice days, students would go out to their section to hang with friends within their element, or even visit other sections for fun. 

As the crowded carriage jolted to a stop in front of the school, Dan felt himself getting even giddier. He loved his school more than his own home. Dan was the first out of the vehicle, gazing up at the towering building in front of him. 

Louise hopped out behind him and put a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Welcome home,” she said quietly. Dan turned and beamed at his friend, brown eyes twinkling. 

“It's great to be back.” 

—

Dan’s first lesson of the school year the next morning was Waterbending. Dan and Zoe sat together in one of the middle rows, chatting in hushed tones about their upcoming year. They were both looking forward to learning about how to freeze still water and to change the shape of water currents in midair. Dan was already well taught in the area of freezing stuff, having once frozen all of Phil’s underwear as a prank. Phil had had to ask one of his friends with fire powers to melt it and they accidentally lit one of his pairs of boxers on fire. 

“...which would be weird, but so cool at the same time. Don't you think?” Zoe was in the middle of a long winded rant about different shapes she could try to create with water. Dan was listening only partially, nodding along to her drabbling while his head was off with the fairies. 

Zoe’s rant was suddenly interrupted as the door to the classroom banged open and Professor Smith entered the room, his tailored blue coat flicking out behind him like a cape. He strolled between two aisles, his briefcase narrowly missing people’s feet or desks as he passed. 

He halted at the front and put his bag on his desk, turning to face the class. “Welcome back, students, to another year at Draxicord School for the Elements. Please open your textbooks to page 16,” he requested, going straight into the lesson without any hesitation or pause. That was how he lived his entire life; to the point and with no second thoughts to consequences. He didn't seem to have many consequences in general, but that was probably down to luck and chance. 

Dan flicked through his slightly beaten up blue textbook until he reached page 16. Zoe found it at the same time, flattening out a crease in the paper. “Right, who wants to read aloud for the class?” Professor Smith asked, arching a bushy eyebrow in an intimidating manner. 

Seeing no one else raising their hands, Dan took the time to end the awkward silence. He cautiously raised his hand into the air, looking around to see if anyone else would volunteer. He felt strangely like prey, completely vulnerable to the eyes of his predatorial classmates. He wasn't, however, in any danger at all. He was simply surrounded by just as awkward three year olds who couldn't be bothered to raise their hand and read out the text for the rest of the pupils. 

“Howell. Why don't you read, seeing as no one else is brave enough?” Professor Smith commented, nodding for Dan to begin reading. He cleared his throat. 

“The art of shaping water is a fine art, which many people find difficult to do perfectly. Even the most astouding–erm, astounding, of benders will make mistakes,” Dan began, stumbling slightly on the word 'astounding’. He mentally cursed himself, feeling as if the class was edging him on to say something else stupid. “There is a precise and abstruse incantation which the bender must internalise to get the desired control. To get the desired shape, one must draw the shape with their arm in the air...” 

Dan finished the paragraph and took a silent, shuddering breath, dropping his hands into his lap. Professor Smith thanked Dan for reading and went straight into instructing in more detail how to shape water. He paired the students off and sent them to the sides of the classroom which had two lines of water taps which they frequently used in training. 

Zoe dragged Dan over to the right side, pulling on his wrist with tight fingers. “Okay, so shall we start? Do you wanna go first or shall I?” Zoe asked, her eyes twinkling merrily at Dan. Dan shrugged. “I’ll go first, then. That way, if I make a fool out of myself, you’ll know what not to do.” Dan nodded, stepping back to give her more room to work her literal magic. 

Zoe muttered the spell under her breath, holding her hands out in front of their shared tap. After a few moments waiting, a soft jet of freezing cold water shot out and hit Dan square in the face. He swore loudly, spluttering and coughed in surprise while trying to swat the water torrent. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Zoe exclaimed, casting her arm in a fluid circle. The water stopped hitting Dan in the face, but it didn't quite follow her movements. Instead, it simply rained down onto the floor. 

He wiped the water off of his face, shaking the droplets out of his hair. His hair would definitely curl later when it dried. Dammit, Dan thought. Zoe apologised profusely while Dan dismissed it with an upheld hand. “Like you said, I now know what not to do. Which is to not drown you on your feet,” he replied jokingly, earning a soft punch in the arm. 

“At least I stopped in the end,” she pointed out, crossing her arms and looking around the room. Many other students were making similar mistakes or their water wasn't perfectly coordinated with their movements yet. Zoe was one of the first few to properly accomplish it, even if she originally pelted her friend with a spurt of water first. 

Dan took a deep breath as Zoe stepped out of the way to give him space. Focusing intensely on the tap, he reiterated the spell in his head over and over. He readied his hands in front of him, steadying them in front of the water tap. 

Zoe flicked the tap on, wincing away expecting a current to hit her in the face as it had done to everyone else. Instead, however, a soft trickle of water edged towards his hands, splashing him barely. Her jaw dropped and Dan began to draw shapes in the air. 

He pushed the water into the air, drawing a delicate and precise line, which he then spiraled down to the ground using his finger. He circled his hand in a figure eight, the water turning over itself just above shoulder height. Students all around stopped what they were doing to watch in awe. A few taps burst as a result, showering people with cool water. 

Dan grinned triumphantly and wrote out his name in cursive, finishing off with a rude, phallic shape. Finally, he snapped his fingers together and the water dropped to the ground. Cheers and wolf whistles filled the air and Dan shut off the water, feeling himself blush. 

“Well done, Howell,” Professor Smith congratulated, his eyes twinkling with a sort of pride. He looked down at his wristwatch. “Ah, it is almost time for your next class. I recommend that you all clean and dry yourselves up before the end of the lesson so you are not late or dripping with water in your next lesson,” he announced. 

The class filed back to their desks, picking up towels to dry their hair. Dan sighed as he looked at himself in the camera of his phone. He had hobbit hair hanging limply in his eyes, dripping cold water to make him shiver. 

Zoe, knowing how he felt about his natural state of his hair, said, “You look fine, Dan. Don't worry about it.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes disbelievingly and picking up an unused towell. He rubbed his hair dry and packed up his bag, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

“Come on, we Defence with the Fires next,” he said, gesturing towards himself for Zoe to follow and she did. 

—

The next few weeks passed by in a blur and suddenly it was already October third. Phil was sitting in his bedroom, watching a rerun of Buffy on his laptop. Dan, meanwhile, was listening to Kanye West while hanging up some Halloween decorations. He already put up a giant fake spider(he got over his arachnophobia) on the wall next to his bed and was in the midst of pinning up fake spider webs. 

“Do you think I should use some fake blood?” he asked, looking down at Phil from his spot on the head of his bed. Phil shrugged, turning the volume up so he could hear Buffy and Spike’s argument better. “Or I could just use your blood instead, prick,” he overheard Dan mutter, hopping off the bed to grab a pair of scissors. 

“I heard that.” 

Dan rolled his eyes with emphasis and sat down at the foot of his bed to start cutting out pieces of tape to use on his headboard. He wanted to string up some fairy lights which had orange light. Phil paused his show to watch Dan working, his hands struggling with the odd scissors. “Left-handedism getting to you again?” he asked, smirking at his roommate. 

Dan flipped him off without looking up and continued to cut out more pieces. Phil chuckled to himself, trying to hide his smile. “You're a prick, you know that?” Dan said suddenly a few seconds later, sitting on his knees to hang up the lights. Phil giggled, shrugging. 

“So are you, did you know that?” Phil remarked, pausing his show yet again to face Dan. Dan turned sideways and they made eye contact for a few seconds until Phil broke it as a blush crept up his neck. That was weird. 

There was a knock at the door suddenly and Dan called, “Come in!” The person knocked again and Dan sighed. 

“You do know the door’s locked, right?” Phil stated, earning another middle finger from Dan. Dan climbed off his bed and padded over to the door. Phil couldn't help notice that Dan’s socks were Phil’s pink doughnut socks. How did he mistake those for his when most of Dan’s wardrobe was black?

“Dan!” Phil heard Dan’s friend Rhea screaming before the familiar girl entered the room. Her long dark hair was in a couple of french braids which bounced as she walked. Phil had to admit that she looked quite pretty with them. She was wearing a loose fitting black t-shirt that read “Not your babe” in cursive and a pair of skinny black jeans. 

She hopped onto Dan’s bed and made herself comfortable, leaning back against the headboard. Dan scooted in next to her, grinning sideways at the girl. Ew, they must be dating or something, Phil thought, getting up from bed and carrying his laptop with him. 

“I’m gonna head over to PJ’s and Chris’s. Don't get pregnant,” Phil announced, slipping into his converses and exiting the bedroom immediately after. 

He heard Dan’s voice shouting through the door, “Fuck off, Phil! It's not like that!” Phil rolled his eyes and made his way down the hallway in search for some peace and quiet. He felt almost sick from the thought of Dan and that girl doing stuff in their room. 

Meanwhile, back in their room, Rhea was climbing over to sit on Phil’s bed, grabbing one of his checkered pillows to put in her lap. She was anticipatively bouncing on her heels, biting her lip and fiddling with her hands with nervous energy. 

Dan leaned back on his elbows and said, “Okay, what’s gotten you so giddy? Is everything alright?” Rhea’s face blushed brightly and she put her face in her hands. “You know you can tell me whatever. I’m not that judgemental,” Dan assured, giving Rhea what he hoped was an encouraging smile. 

Rhea took a deep breath. “Okay, well, it's two things, actually,” she admitted, biting her lip between her teeth. Dan nodded for her to go on. “First off, I should probably try to get over with the most controversial confession.” 

Dan raised his eyebrows, eyes wide. “You didn't kill someone, did you?” he blurted, sitting up straighter. This seemed to be hugely important to Rhea and he wanted to be as interactive as possible. 

She shook her head, leaning forward and slapping his arm. “No, silly! It's not illegal,” she pauses “at least here it isn't,” her cheeks dappled pink again. She took another deep inhale to compose herself and half shouted, “I’m genderfluid!” 

That wasn't what Dan was expecting. His jaw, seeming to have a life of its own, dropped. He snapped it shut, but not before Rhea’s quick eyes noticed. She fell back onto the bed with her face in her hands. “Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have said anything,” she wailed, voice slightly muffled by her hands. 

Dan crawled over to Phil’s bed (Ergh, I’m in Phil’s bed) and poked Rhea’s hands. She peeled them slowly apart, looking up at Dan. “I didn't have a weird jaw dislocation because I don't like it. I was just shocked and my chin has a mind of its fucking own,” he said, pulling her into a sitting position again. 

“Wait, really?” she asked, biting her lips. Her grey-green eyes were glassy with tears threatening to overflow the dam of her eyelids. Dan nodded, wiping aside a tear which had let loose and trickled down her cheek. 

“Rhea, you’re one of my favourite people in this entire fucking planet, I don't care that you’re not always a girl or a guy. Neither am I—” Dan’s eyes widened and he felt his heart skip about a billion beats. Was he having a heart attack? “I mean… I’m–I, uh. I—” he blathered in a panic. 

“Wait, Dan, are you genderfluid as well?” Rhea asked tentatively, knitting her eyebrows together. 

Dan shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. “No, I don't–I don't think so,” he replied sheepishly, his voice quiet and scared like a lamb, “I just–I don't exactly feel like a boy either. But I don't feel like a girl either. I don't feel like really anything. I’m just Dan.” 

Rhea nodded contemplatively, slowly. “So, like, agender?” she clarified, looking back at him. He was thankful to find her eyes weren't welling up with tears anymore. That was always good. 

Dan shrugged, falling onto his back. “I don't really know. I guess?” he replied, putting his hands over his face, “You know me, Rhea. I don't like labels. I never have. Even when I kissed Jack at that party in March, I still don't think I’m gay.” 

Rhea crawled into bed next to Dan, resting her head on his shoulder and linking their arms together. “That's fine. Not everyone needs a label, and that's fine,” Rhea whispered, nudging his shoulder. “By the way, what pronouns do you use? I usually use they or them most of the time, but it depends on the day,” they added. 

Dan shrugged. “I guess they as well? I haven't put much thought into it because I didn't think I’d ever tell anyone about it,” they admitted, moving their hands from their face again. Their hair was a curly mess atop their hair now. 

“Cool, cool.” 

Dan sat up, looking down at Rhea and resting on the heel of their hand. “What was the other thing you wanted to 'confess’ to?” they asked. 

Rhea sat up as well, turning their body so that they were sitting in front of each other, both with their legs crossed. “Well…” they began, their cheeks scarlet again, “I think I may have a bit of a crush on your roommate.” 

Dan toppled backwards off the bed, screaming. “Dan?!” Rhea shrieked, crawling quickly over to the edge of the bed to look down at Dan sprawled on their back with their feet still on the bed. “What the heck just happened?” they asked. 

Dan shook their head, sitting up on the heels of their hands. “You did not just tell me you like Phil Lester,” they deadpanned, face dark with seriousness. 

Rhea blushed again. “I-I might,” they squeaked, watching Dan as they clambered back to a standing position. “He’s just so cute and sweet and I sit next to him during English and he’s such a sweetheart, honestly,” they babbled, “I just–he’s so freaking cute and awkward.” 

Dan shook their head disappointedly. “There is nothing cute about Phil Lester. He’s annoying and incessant and loud and obnoxious,” Dan stated soberly, eyes darkening like the night’s sky in winter. “You’re an idiot if you’ve fallen for him,” they added sharply. 

For some reason, Rhea seemed to find this absolutely hilarious and fell into a fit of laughter so hard they were tearing up. Dan scowled at their friend as they rolled around Dan’s bed in a fit of giggles like a maniac. Finally, Rhea seemed to calm down and sat up again, wiping their eyes. 

“Oh, stop looking at me like that.” 

Dan shook his head, folding his arms together. “I love how my possible crush on your roommate is more controversial than being gender fluid.” Dan rolled their eyes, still scowling like an aggravated child. 

Dan exhaled loudly and flopped onto their face, sticking it between two pillows. There was a knock at the door then and Phil’s panicked voice exclaimed from the other side of the door, “Hey, Dan? I forgot my key. Can you let me in?” 

Dan groaned and stood up from the bed, lifting their middle finger at Rhea as they made their way to the door. The door creaked as it opened and revealed Phil standing outside with his laptop by his side. Dan rolled their eyes and made their way back to bed. 

Rhea clapped their hands together and announced, “I should be getting out of here now. I’ll see you around, Danny!” Without another word, they marched out of the room. But not without a backward glance at Phil, eyes glinting with hope. 

“Jesus Christ,” Dan mumbled into the fabric, burrowing their head deeper under the crisp white pillows. They ignored Phil’s confused noise. 

“Night, Dan,” Phil whispered to the dark, returning from the toilet. Dan didn't reply, seeing as they were already fast asleep.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: a panic attack, fighting(just some punches thrown), homophobic slurs

Dan was sitting alongside Kat and Troye during History of Elements, in the midst of finishing up their work. They were typing away on their keyboard, their eyebrows knit and their lip between their teeth as they concentrated. They sighed, leaning back to think about their next analysis point before returning to typing, loosely biting their thumb nail while resting their chin on their hand. Kat looked sideways at them for a moment before returning to her own work. 

Dan was completely oblivious to their surroundings as they listened to a song by Kanye West, tapping their foot to the beat. “Okay, so the use of short sentences shows the… panic and quick pace of the men going into battle. It represents chaos…” they mumbled under their breath, typing furiously, leaning over the laptop. 

They were halfway through the next paragraph when they noticed laughter coming from another table. They looked around, finding nothing, and went back to writing, left with a feeling of unease. They bobbed their knee up and down anxiously, falling out of their rhythm. They ran their hands through their already messy locks, heaving a soft breath of air from their nostrils.

“You okay, Dan?” Kat asked, her eyebrows furrowed in perturbation. Dan looked up and nodded, biting their lip. Troye eyed them as well, his own eyebrows creased together. 

“Nice hair, Howell,” someone said suddenly, making Dan jump. They looked up to see Dan’s ex girlfriend Niki staring at him from her table with Phil and PJ. Her eyes were narrowed with determination, a smirk held on her lips. 

Dan and Niki didn't end on the best of terms. They went on a date together near Halloween in which they went to the nearby village for a coffee date. It was nice and cozy, but Dan didn't feel right. A few days later(the day before Halloween), Niki confronted them in the library. She said she heard a rumour about them hitting on Rhea and wanted to know if it was true. 

Even after they insisted for a good few minutes, she still didn't believe him. It turned into an explosive argument which got them both kicked out of the library, both drenched in angry tears. Dan told her they didn't want to see her again and she returned with the use of her middle finger. Dan went to bed that night in a fit of tears that he knew Phil noticed. 

Now, almost a month later, she still wasn't over it. She still had it in her head that Dan never liked her and had cheated on her with a friend. They supposed it came down to some sort of low self-esteem or something, which they could relate to a bit too much. 

Dan narrowed their own eyes across the class to their ex. They could feel eyes from other surrounding tables, but ignored them to glare at the girl. Troye and Kat stared back at her as well, glaring just as much, if not more. 

Niki chuckled dryly. “Do you even own a brush?” she joked, hitting her chin out proudly. “You look like a freaking hobbit!” Dan bit their lip, their cheeks burning. 

“Yeah, you look like a hobbit,” Phil shot back, looking sideways at Niki. He looked almost nervous and unsure with himself. 

Niki shook her head, letting a dark curl fall into her face. “You look ridiculous, Howell. Can't you remember to use a straightener?” she drawled, “Or were you too busy with your little girlfriend Rhea?” 

Dan curled their hands into fist. They were glad that Rhea wasn't here to listen to someone misgendering them, but since they were absent, Dan vowed to make sure that their friend didn't get any shit from some asshole who was just trying to pick a fight. 

Troye placed his hand on one of Dan’s arms, shaking his head and mouthing, “She's not worth it.” Dan rolled their eyes and brushed the boy off, going back to leering at Nikita. 

“For the last time, Niki. I am not dating Rhea,” they snarled, lowering their eyes intensely. Niki smiled lopsidedly, tilting her head. 

Phil snorted exaggeratedly and blurted out, “I doubt that, Howell! Y-you’re always bringing her to our room every night!” Dan stood up, knocking their chair backwards onto the floor keeping their fists on the table. Phil was lying and he knew it. 

“Shut up, Lester. You know that's not true,” they growled, glowering at their roommate with furious eyes burning with the fire of Hell itself. It was one thing for Phil to make fun of their hair, but to blatantly lie about their friend was another story. A story that Dan had no time to listen to. 

Phil winced, eyes widening. “What’s the matter, Howell? Can't take the truth when it's right in your face?” PJ drawled, grinning wickedly. Phil was practically vibrating in his seat now, cheeks scarlet. 

Kat tugged on Dan’s shirt to get them to sit down. They glared at their friend and went back to staring down the other three. The teacher’s absence was quite convenient for this time. 

“Dan, sit the fuck down before you do something stupid,” she snapped, yanking on their wrist harder now. They shook her off. 

“Is she your girlfriend as well?” Niki guffawed, smirking cruelly. “I don't know why anyone bothers with you anyway, Howell. Your hair is as messy as yourself,” she added, voice shrill and cruel now. Dan swallowed, their hands shaking at their sides. 

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend, Niki. Just because you have a shitty self-esteem doesn't mean you have to take out your self-hatred out on other people,” Dan blurted. The room was even more silent than before, all sounds of writing and whispers drowned out by Dan's cool attitude. “I dated you because I liked you, Niki. Not because I pitied you. I can see now that I really shouldn't have because you’re a jealous maniac,” he added, voice just as cutting and sharp as before. 

Nikita’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Howell,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She seemed to have regained her usual tone, one eyebrow arched. Dan scoffed, rolling their eyes. “Take your shitty hair and shove it up your ass for all I care. Or better yet, shove it up one of your bullshit friends’ asses!” she added. 

Dan’s lip quivered. “You’re a waste of space, Howell. Stop taking up so much because no one wants you here.” Her voice was echoey and distant now, but her words still tore into Dan’s flesh. They turned on their heels and sprinted out of the room, knocking over and empty seat on their way out. They slammed the door and stormed down the hallway, barely able to stifle a sob before they reached the boys’ lavatory. As much as they hated using that toilet, Dan needed to take a breath and sat down on one of the toilets, their body wracked with sobs. 

Meanwhile, back in the classroom, Phil was glaring at his friend. “That was a little harsh, don't you think, Niki?” he said, wincing when he heard Dan’s familiar sob before the door shut. 

She shrugged, leaning back in her seat. “He deserved to hear it. He was an asshole and he broke my heart,” she snapped, jutting her chin in the air. 

Phil scoffed. “Seriously? How did he 'break your heart’, Niki? You were the one that got jealous for virtually no reason!” he snapped, scowling at her even more. 

This time it was Niki’s turn to scoff. “He cheated on me, Phil. You know that. It was the most obvious thing ever!” Phil rolled his eyes. 

“No he didn't, Niki! There is no proof of that! I think you decided that for yourself!” he snapped, “You got scared of being broken up with and created some sort of weird story in your head and attacked him about it for no reason!” 

“But you said just now that he—”   
Phil cut her off. “I was lying! I was trying to do what you wanted me to do! You wanted me to help your stupid story and that was the first thing that came into my head. He had her over one time for a few hours and that's it!” Nikita’s jaw dropped. Beside her, PJ raised his eyebrows as well, green eyes wide with awe. Phil Lester lied. 

“Niki, you took it too far. Even if he did cheat on you, you were the one that just made him sprint out of a room in tears!” he growled, narrowing his eyebrows at his friend. “I think you should sit somewhere else, Niki.” 

Niki recoiled. “W-wait what? Why?” she blathered, eyes widening more than Phil thought possible. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear again. 

“I’m sorry, Niki. Dan might not be the best person, but you can't just say that kind of thing to him,” he whispered, losing his previous temper. Suddenly, he just felt exhausted and just wanted to go to bed for a year. 

Niki nodded stiffly and picked up her stuff, carrying it over to an empty table, plopped down into a seat and continuing her work in silence for the rest of the lesson. The teacher returned a few minutes later and then the bell rang for lunch. Immediately, Niki shoved her stuff into her backpack and hurried out of the room without another look. 

—

The next day, Dan returned to his lessons in a much better mood. Phil had to admit that he was glad the boy had gotten over the previous day’s quarrel. He was also upset when he noticed that Nikita wasn't in any of her lessons. No one had seen her since History of Elements, not even her roommate, Ellen. 

Phil was so worried about his friend’s absence that he kept on dropping things. Most students chuckled to themselves and his friends teased him relentlessly, but he simply brushed it off. He was far too anxious about his friend to care what people were laughing at him about. 

When she didn't show up in any classes the following three days, Phil started to completely lose his cool. He was constantly terrified about her and jumped at every noise. whenever he heard a door open, he looked up hopefully to see if it was her, only to find it being someone else. 

It was nowfour days later and Phil hadn't stopped shaking. He looked around the lunch hall frantically for Nikita, feeling his heart drop to the floor when he didn't find her. Stressfully running his hands through his black locks, Phil turned around to leave the hall. On his way out, he caught Howell’s eye, which had a strange look of concern to it for a moment. And then it was gone. 

Phil hurried out of the hall, taking deep breaths in and out to try to calm himself down. His breaths came out short and shaky as he tried to stumble up the stairs to his dorm room again. The bell rang for 1st period and Phil whimpered in despair as crowds filed into the hall. 

Phil fixed his backpack on his back and took another deep exhale, starting in the direction of his first period, Botany. He pushed the big front doors open, holding it open for a few students, and started down the field towards the greenhouses. He was still trying to calm himself down when he reached Greenhouse A where his teacher, Professor Fitzpatrick, was standing. 

Phil gave him a weak wave and brushed past him to enter the greenhouse. Shortly after he was situated at his station, the other students began to file into the greenhouse. Phil’s heart hammered even louder in his chest, if that was possible. He closed his eyes, taking another heave of air, brushing his sweaty palms on his trousers. 

PJ stopped across from him, giving him a bright smile. Upon seeing Phil’s weak and terrified face, his face twisted with unease, knitting his eyebrows together. “Phil? Are you alright? You don't look so good,” he asked, waving his hand in front of Phil’s face. 

Phil shrugged. Dodie appeared at the next station, giving him an equally concerned look. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Phil shrugged in reply to both friends’ questions. “You haven't looked very well in a few days. Are you coming down with something? Do you need to see the matron?” 

Phil shook his head. “I’m worried about Niki,” he replied stiffly, shortly. His stomach tied itself in a knot at the mention of her name. “I sh-shouldn’t have shouted at her the o-other day because n-now she’s m-missing,” he stuttered, shaking all over his body. 

Dodie put a hand on his arm to try to stop his shaking, but to no avail. “Phil, are you sure you don't wanna go to the matron? I’m sure she'll understand it. She has to deal with this kind of stuff all the time. She works with a bunch of hormonal teenagers,” PJ simpered softly, his eyes leaking with disquiet. 

Phil shook his head, biting his lip. “I-I’ll be fine. Thanks though,” he whispered, unable to use his voice properly anymore. 

Professor Fitzpatrick made his way to the front of the class now, clapping his hands together with his usual tone of commencement. It was unheard of for him to not begin a lesson with a clap of his hands. 

“Today we will be repotting Forked-sundews, scientifically known as Drosera Binata,” he advertised. He pulled a dirty beige tarp off of the front table to reveal a bunch of odd looking plants. They were bright red with hundreds of tiny stems with what looked like dew drops on the tips, all standing up in their pots. 

Phil, of course, knew all about these plants. He read about it in one of his favourite books “Plants and Herbs of the Southeast” It was a particularly interesting read filled with many fascinating plants based in Australia and New Zealand and the Philippines etc. That part of the world seemed to have the most interesting things in it, in Phil’s opinion. 

Normally, Phil would be one of the first students to react. He would either raise his hand to comment on it or at least give it an awed and excited smile. Today, however, he hardly even glanced at the plants. As if noticing Phil’s disinterest or dislocation from the class, Professor Fitzpatrick called on Phil instead to pass out the pots. 

Phil bobbed his head jerkily and droned numbly to the front, his eyes glazed over. He took a couple of pots and started towards the front row to hand the first groups their pots. However, in his dissociatativeness, he dropped them right on the ground where they promptly shattered at his feet. He hardly noticed the pain in one of his feet, nor the laughter all around him. 

“Oi, Lester! You alright? That doesn't look very comfortable,” Professor Fitzpatrick barked, his loud voice slightly concerned sounding. As sympathetic as he could look, at least. Phil snapped out of his zoned-out situation and looked around the room as if viewing it for the first time. 

One of his feet was in agony and upon looking down at it, he saw that a shard had somehow lodged itself through his shoe and into his foot. He looked around the room to see that most of the students were smirking and giggling at his clumsiness. Minus his friends, of course. 

And Dan Howell. 

Instead of laughing along with his friends and the rest of the students, like he normally would, he was stone silent. His face was unreadable and flat as he looked up at Phil in his bizarre and numb state. 

“Lester, perhaps you better get up to the matron. Does anyone want to help get him up there?” Professor Fitzpatrick asked, putting a hand on Phil’s back to centre him. He hadn't noticed he was swaying. 

Dodie and PJ raised their hands immediately and had a short scuffle deciding who would go with him. In the end, PJ was the one to march up to Phil and take his arm. “I’ll get him, sir,” he said, helping Phil to stumble out of the classroom. 

PJ dropped Phil off at the matrons a few minutes later. “I’ll tell Professor Fitzpatrick you’ll be here for a while and then I’ll tell Professor Ansari where you are, okay? Don't worry about it,” PJ assured him, patting Phil’s back and knocking on the door to the hospital wing. After only a few seconds, the matron appeared. 

She was a kindly and older woman with greying hair tied back in a messy bun. Her name was Mrs. Frock, but everyone just called her Linda. It was what she insisted they call her. “Oh, Phil! What happened to your foot?” she exclaimed upon looking Phil and PJ up and down once. “You can go on back to your class, deary. I’ve got him,” she added, turning to PJ. PJ waved to Phil before turning around and leaving. 

As soon as PJ was gone and the door was shut behind him, Linda turned to Phil, giving him a once over again. “I’m guessing you’re not just here for your foot, are you? It hardly even broke the skin,” she said, eyeing him intensely. Phil nodded. Mrs. Frock nodded knowingly and pulled Phil’s sneaker of. He hardly had any cut on his foot. “Right, tell me what’s bothering you and I’ll let you take a nap for a while. You look like you haven't slept in about a decade.” 

—

After Phil hobbled out of the classroom, the lesson went on without anymore casualties. Dan had a feeling that Phil was hardly hurt from the pot, seeing as he barely flinched and had looked like shit all day. All week, in fact. Dan also had a feeling that it was to do with Nikita. 

She hadn't been in any classes since the whole argument between them a few days ago and Phil hadn't looked well since. A distant part of Dan felt anxious and worried for him, but a much harsher and apathetic part of them was particularly fine and even excited about Phil's absence. At least they wouldn't have to share a room with him, at least for a night. 

After Defence and Combat and then History, in which Phil was absent from both, Dan was making their way to the library during their lunch period to study for the Potion test next period. Granted, they probably should have studied sooner, but Dan really couldn't be bothered studying any sooner. They were a chronic procrastinator, after all. 

Halfway there, Dan noticed some muffled sounds coming from inside an empty classroom. They knew that they should probably leave the person alone, but their concern, and perhaps a bit of twisted curiosity, got the better of them. They crept over to the slightly ajar door and peeked inside. 

Within the room, sitting against the wall in a tight ball, was Phil Lester. He was sitting up, hugging his knees to his chest and sobbing like a baby. His heartbreaking and tragic face was scrunched together awfully as mostly silent tears flooded down his cheeks and soaked his shirt. Dan felt their heart flip over and their indifferent and cruel side of them became weak as they looked at the boy before them. Dan had never seen something more broken. 

Dan spun around and leaned against the wall, trying to decide what to do. They weren't sure whether or not they should try to intervene or help him. They weren't good at comforting people in the first place, but trying to calm down their literally nemesis? Not exactly a walk in the park. They hardly ever talked except to throw insults at each other and Dan wasn't sure how Phil would even react to Dan suddenly deciding to be a good person to him. 

But on the other hand, Dan would be a horrible person if they didn't try to help Phil in a time of need. Besides, their heart was absolutely breaking at the pathetic sight of their roommate curled in on himself and crying. They felt their heart clench and twist and implode in on itself at the muffled sobs tumbling from the other’s mouth. Dan wanted so badly to help the other boy. 

In the end, Dan forced theirself to make their way up to the library to get studying for the exam. They couldn't fail their class just because of one crying classmate getting in the way. Plus, he wouldn't admit it theirself, but it was too hard to handle watching Phil in his miserable state anymore. 

It would be a lie to say that Dan wasn't guilty about not helping Phil out. All throughout their studying in the library, they couldn't push aside the nagging, intrusive thoughts telling them they were a terrible human and that they should have helped Phil. They ended up forgetting just about everything when they did the actual test, their mind elsewhere in an almost empty class, sitting sadly beside a weeping boy.

—

The next day, Dan was on their way to History of the Elements, alongside Patricia, Louise and Rhea, when they noticed a commotion in the main hall. The foursome looked at each other in confusion, silently asking each other what the problem could be. 

Dan lead the way over to the stairs, crouching down behind the banister. What they saw was not what Dan ever expected. Phil and a boy in their year, Frank, were standing in front of each other like they were squaring off for an old Western shootout. Phil’s hands were balled into fists at his side and even from here Dan could see them shaking violently. He was nervous. Dan had seen Phil at his wits end, terrified for seemingly no reason, countless times to know now that when he was anxious, his body turned into a fucking earthquake. 

“Say that to me again, Frank,” Phil spat, a surprising amount of fire in his voice. Dan looked sideways at Louise who only shrugged. Dan returned their eyes to the stare off. 

Frank chuckled dryly. “What, 'Faggot’? What's so wrong, Philly? Can't take the fucking truth?” he snarled, teeth flashing menacingly. Dan felt their heart skip a beat at the mention of the slur. It was a horrible word. What could Frank possibly think would give him reason to say that to someone? 

Phil shook his head. “Shut up, Frank. Don't say that,” Phil managed, his voice weak all of a sudden. Dan could tell that Phil didn't much appreciate that word either. Who would? Even though Phil was most likely straight, anyone with any sense of humanity would have an issue with that word. 

“Why not? But you are a faggot. A cock sucker. A twink. A homo.” Frank seemed to just be naming off different slurs he could think of, all of which made Phil flinch. Even Dan was close to flinching. “No matter how I say it, you’ll still be a faggot,” he added. 

That seemed to have gotten to Phil. His scared and uncomfortable face filled with utmost rage and he lunged towards Frank. Not expecting it, Frank stumbled backwards as Phil jumped him. Students all around, who were watching from various areas around the hall, cheered and shouted at the two boys. 

“What the fuck?” Frank jeered, trying to push Phil off. He was proving to be much nimbler and stronger than he looked with his lanky, awkward body. He shoved Frank around, hardly wincing when Frank fought back with punches and kicks. 

Frank shoved Phil backwards, hard, so that he landed on the ground with a thud. “You’re too weak for your own good, twink,” Frank sneered. Phil narrowed his eyes at the taller boy and got slowly to his feet. He began to turn around and Dan sighed thinking that Phil was giving up. While they wouldn't normally support Phil in a fight, since he was fighting a homophobic asshole, Dan let their rivalry slide for a moment. 

However, Dan’s disappointment in Phil didn't last long as he immediately spun on his heel and punched Frank square in the face. The crowd shrieked and roared as Phil swung at the boy again. Suddenly, the fight was broken up as the door to the lunch hall swung open and the headmaster, Professor Birchwood, marched in. 

Seeing Phil swinging at the taller boy’s face, her sickly sweet face twisted into one of fury. She grabbed Phil by his collar and pulled him off of Frank. She dragged him all the way up the stairs. On his way past, Dan caught Phil’s eye. It looked less angry now and more exhausted, embarrassed and… something else Dan couldn't read. 

Once Phil was dragged out and another teacher pulled Frank away as well, everyone started making their way to their classes again. Everyone was whispering in awe and shock;no one had ever seen Phil Lester, the literal ray of sunshine, be violent. Hell, hardly anyone had seen him be mean to someone(except maybe Dan.) Needless to say, Phil was the talk of the school.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: general angst(as usual)and some anxiety mentions

★Time skip two years★

Fifth year was proving to be one of the hardest years yet. Phil was having to spend at least half of his time in the library studying for his exams. He was now taking several other classes for the first time, but had dropped Potions and Astronomy. He was now taking Meteorology and Sexuality Studies, which was with Dan Howell. 

Phil was currently in the library, as per usual, with Dodie and PJ. They were all studying for an upcoming quiz in Meteorology. Dodie had her wavy brown hair tied back in a messy bun, a white pencil stuck in the hair tie, using another white pencil to jot down notes. PJ, meanwhile, had his glasses on the tip of his nose, slightly hunched forwards over his textbook.

“What year was it again that that huge hurricane happened in America? It was Katrina, I think” Phil asked all of a sudden, tapping his blue pen on his chin in deep thought.

PJ shrugged, flicking through his notes desperately in search of the dates. Dodie, however, chimed in, “It was the August of 2005.” Phil mumbled a thank you and quickly scribbled that down onto a notecard.

Phil thumbed dully at his Prefect badge, a habit he had picked up recently when he was anxious. Which was just about always. It was a shiny, sleek badge shaped like the school’s crest, adorned with a cursive P. Phil liked to think it was for Phil, but he knew it was just for Prefect. Either way, it was a cool badge which he wore proudly.

There were only eight prefects in fifth year. There was a male and a female from each elemental type, to represent them, Phil supposed. The other Earthen prefect was one of Dan’s friends, Kat Blaque. She practically made the school news as everyone knew she was transgender and Draxicord had never had a transgender prefect. It was pretty awesome, in Phil’s opinion.

The two Fire prefects were two people Phil hadn't known until now, Maive McPherson and David Regal. The two Air prefects were Dodie and a boy she was friends with called Dean Dobbs. He seemed friendly enough. Unfortunately, Dan Howell was one of the Aquatic perfects, along with Dan’s friend Zoe. It was a nightmare.

“Do we have to know about the Tsunami that happened in Chile in 2015?” Dodie asked, breaking the silence and Phil’s thoughts. She was flipping through her jotter, going back and forth between pages, giving Phil glances of careful, flowery writing.

Phil shrugged. “I think so? It can't hurt to keep it in mind, just in case” Phil replied, looking through his own notes. He shuffled his cards again, picking a card out at random. “In what part of the world did the 1960 earthquake happen? It was rated the worst earthquake in history,” Phil read off of the back, immediately knowing the answer already.

“Ooh, Chile, wasn't it?” PJ blurted, pointing directly at Phil with his finger. Phil looked at his friend’s finger with crossed eyes, smirking.

At the same time, Dodie stated, “The Pacific Ocean? Like, near South America and such?”

Phil turned over the card. “You guys were technically both right. It was Chile and the Pacific Rim,” he replied, skimming the card to be certain. He nodded to himself and stuffed the card on the bottom.

“Ooh, do another one!” Dodie chimed, leaning on her elbows on the wooden table. Phil read off the next card for them to answer.

—

On the first day of October, Dan arrived to History of the Elements in a slight panic. They were so busy with finishing up an English essay that they forgot to do the History homework. They never usually forgot to do their work and the back of their mind reminded them that they were a pretty good student and probably wouldn't get in trouble. However, the more persuasive and less logical side of their brain assured them that they would get a detention for forgetting.

Bobbing their knee up and down, Dan watched the other students making their way into the room. Nathan slid into the seat beside Dan and dropped his bag on top of the desk. “Morning, Dan,” he greeted, opening his bag and pulling out his things. Dan nodded in recognition, still bouncing their knee repeatedly.

Phil and his friends Chris and PJ entered the room next, going over to sit in desks near the back. Phil sat down at an empty two-seater across from Chris and Pj, putting his stuff on the desk. Dan turned back around to face the front again.

Professor Carson entered the room just as the bell tinkled, barraging Dan’s eardrums. “Good morning, class” Professor Carson stated, bobbing his head at the individual rows of pupils, “Did everyone do their homework? I sure hope so.” He grinned cheerfully at the class, earning blank, expressionless faces in return. Dan’s stomach did a somersault. 

Professor Carson sighed, turning around to get something from his bag. “Who wants to go around and pick up everyone’s homework?” he asked, clocking the students again. No reaction. “Anyone? Anyone at all?” When still no one volunteered, Professor Carson instead went around to pick them up himself.

When he reached Dan’s and Nathan’s table, he eyed them both carefully. He took Nathan’s work and looked expectantly at Dan. Dan’s cheeks exploded into pink and red fireworks as they bite their lip nervously. “Howell, where is your work? You usually have it,” Professor Carson asked sternly, arching a single dark eyebrow. Dan swallowed hard around the lump in their throat.

They cleared their throat and finally managed to croak, “I-I forgot t-to do it, sir. I had an e-essay to f-finish for E-english and i-it slipped m-my mind.” They stumbled over almost every word, screwing their fists at their side in a desperate attempt to keep from shaking. Somehow, they didn't think it was working very well.

Professor Carson’s face softened slightly and he put a delicate, cool hand on Dan’s arm. “It's okay. Just turn it in tomorrow during break or lunch, okay?” Dan gazed up at their teacher who held no kind of anger or annoyance, only a strange look of understanding. That wasn't at all what Dan had been expecting. “Don't worry, Howell. You’re one of the few students who actually turns in all of your homework. I can’t exactly tell you off for one little mistake,” he reassured, turning to head to the next desk.

Dan let out a deep breath and felt several pairs of eyes on them. Their face didn't cease its scarlet dressage for another few minutes when the class properly began. Dan could no longer feel hundreds of eyes on them. They could, however, feel a single pair coming from the back. 

Curious as to whom it was that hadn't stopped staring at them for the past five minutes, Dan casually dropped their pen behind their chair and turned around to discreetly look. Of all the people Dan could have expected, they weren't expecting Lester. Their dark golden brown eyes caught Lester’s crystalline blue ones, like sand meeting the ocean on a beach. 

Dan’s cheeks went beet red, matching Lester's, which contrasted significantly on his pale face. Dan picked up the pen and cleared their throat, spinning around to watch the front. Dan struggled to pay attention to the rest of the lesson, their neck burning with the constant sensation of someone—Lester—staring at them.

—  
Dan was scribbling down the answers to their Potions homework, biting their bottom lip in concentration, eyebrows furrowed. Phil, meanwhile, had his annoying friends on his bed, laughing and talking loudly. Dan’s headphones unfortunately broke the previous day, so they had no way to block them out, like they usually would. 

“Oh, that was a good one! I loved that part!” PJ Liguori exclaimed, clapping his hands while he guffawed at some stupid reference Lester had made. Dan rolled their eyes and turned over to the other side of their paper. They mindlessly spun a few water droplets above their finger, biting their lip in contemplation. Dan was particularly good at “Loose Bending”, a much less precise form of putting water into shapes. 

Dodie Clark nodded, fixing her glasses on her nose. She was sitting next to Lester on his bed, her head on his shoulder. Dan rolled their eyes at the blatant coupling up.

Chris gasped, slapping Lester’s arm repetitively. “Did you see Wonder Woman? I forgot to ask you in like September,” Chris asked, still assaulting Lester’s arm. Lester brushed his friend off.

“Stop assaulting me, geez,” he whined, “And yes, I did see it. It was awesome.” The two boys fell into an easy conversation about the film’s best scenes, which Dan had a few opinions on. They could definitely agree on the No Man’s Land scene being one of the greatest cinematic creations ever, but a few differing opinions on the best characters.

“Did you hear the shit that what's her name was on about the other day? What's her name… Zoe? She's dating that guy Alfie in the year above ours, I think,” Chris commented once he and Lester finished their fanboying session. Dan’s ears perked up at the mention of his friend. 

Lester shook his head cluelessly, looking sideways at Dan for a moment before looking back at his friend. “She was going on and on about makeup for like ten minutes. I’d be surprised to find out she has any brain in her head,” Chris continued, oblivious to Dan balling up their fists at their sides, “And then, once she finished that, she went on about The Crown for another 10. That girl Louise was there too and she was practically on the edge of her fucking seat!” 

“I have you know that Zoe has straight A’s and is a prefect, unlike you,” Dan snapped, surprising even theirself. Everyone in the room turned to look at them, eyes wide with shock. “Since when was it a bad thing to like makeup, anyway? It's just fucking makeup, not a murder weapon. It's just sexist to think that only girls like makeup,” they continued, their voice growing louder and louder by the second. 

No one replied, signalling Dan to continue their rant. “Also, who cares if she went on about a tv show for a while? You literally just spent 15 minutes talking about Wonder Woman and you have the fucking nerve to mock her for liking a tv show?” Chris’s face turned scarlet. “And, Louise was just being a nice friend and listening to her friend talking about something she enjoys. Who cares if they like it? At least they fucking pass the bechdel test, unlike you guys. There's only fucking Dodie or whatever and no other girls. Leave my friends alone and shut your traps because you have no business talking shit about them. Capeesh?” 

Chris visibly swallowed, his eyes wide with terror now. Dan got up in his face, poking the boy’s chest with a black polished nail. “If I ever hear you saying shit about my friends again, I will personally make sure to kick your ass so hard that you implode,” they snarled, spitting a little on his face. 

Dan stood up, cracking their knuckles and slipped their phone into their back pocket, storming out of the room in a bubbling rage. 

—

The next day, Phil couldn't find Howell anywhere. After his dramatic and fiery exit, Phil recommended that his friends leave just in case Howell returned, however he never did. Phil refused to admit to himself that he was worried about Howell’s absence, even though he was. 

He didn't have much time to dwell on it, anyway because he had to study for his November practice exams. It was bitingly cold outside and most of the rooms had deficient heating and a profusion of drafts creeping through the old windows. Even Chris’s handheld fires were less than substantial at making any effect on the temperature. 

Phil was a bit distant from Chris overall, however. He was a little upset with him for what he had said about Howell’s friends, knowing perfectly well that they were Howell’s friends. He took it too far and Phil felt guilty for having let it get that far at all. 

“Hey, Philly, what’s got your pants in a knot? You look a little paler than usual,” PJ commented, sitting down next to him during lunch. “Which isn't really saying much, but…” he added, gaining a sharp elbow from Phil in his side. 

“I’m fine. My stomach just hurts is all,” he replied unconvincingly. He gave PJ a weak smile in an attempt to prove himself, knowing that PJ wouldn't fall for it for a second. They were best friends, after all. “My head hurts, as well,” he added. 

PJ still didn't look very convinced, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he brushed it off, recognising Phil didn't want to talk about it just yet. “You ready for the History exam we have next period?” he asked instead, trying to move the subject off of Phil’s mental state. 

Phil shrugged and said, “Eh, I hope so. I studied for it, but I’m not sure I’ll actually pass it. What about you?” He felt his hands quaking moderately at his sides and sat on them to try to stop it. Why was he always shaking like he was cold? He almost felt anxious for some strange reason. 

Lunch finished a few minutes later and Phil and PJ went up to the History of the Elements class. The test, in Phil’s opinion, went relatively well, considering he was stressed out the entire time. Howell should have been in that class, but he wasn't. 

After History, he had yet another test in English, in which he had to write an essay using 15 quotes from the book they were reading in their class that year. He ended up forgetting most of his quotes and the ones he did remember, he was certain that he messed them up completely. 

He was a wreck by the time he got to his room after dinner that evening. His hair was quiffed from worrying his hands through it all the time and his palms were practically dripping from his sweat. It wasn't an attractive sight, to say the least. 

“Maybe I am worried,” he mumbled, unlocking their bedroom door. He half expected to find Dan curled up in bed with a book or his laptop, but he wasn't surprised to find their room empty and cold, lacking life. 

Phil was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he heard the door click open. He gagged on his toothbrush and tossed it into the sink, running into the bedroom and wiping his face of the whitish foam. A rather exhausted looking Dan was standing in the doorway of the room, his hair in a knotted mop atop his head. Phil could just catch deeply embedded crescents in his palms, obviously made from clenching them onto fists. 

“Howell,” he breathed, watching Howell walk over to his chest of drawers. “I’m sorry about how Chris acted yesterday. It was immature and dumb and he really feels bad about it,” he blurted, standing behind him as he rifled through his drawers for something. 

Howell turned around, facing Phil with lifeless, bloodshot eyes. He looked worse than Phil had ever seen him. He seemed to be debating saying something, opening his mouth and closing it like a mute opera singer. 

Eventually, he decided on a simple shrug before pushing past Phil and going into the bathroom. Phil heard the distinct noise of Howell putting Phil’s toothbrush back in the cup and then the running of water. 

A few minutes later, Phil was still standing between the two beds. Howell reappeared in the room and hardly glanced at Phil before climbing into the right side of the bed and curled onto his side, facing away from Phil, his arms hugging a pillow to his chest. 

Phil sighed, a little disappointed in Howell’s indifferent and silent response to his apology. It was, as he reminded himself, Howell after all and he shouldn't have expected anything else. This wasn't very much of a comfort as he uneasily fell asleep a few minutes later. Regardless, he could hear Howell’s soft sighs every so often, proving that neither of the boys were asleep that night.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: mentions of blood and an explosion

Regardless of the millions of exams coming up, everyone was looking forward to the winter holiday. The last week of school was to be filled to the brim with both practical and written exams. The library was absolutely packed with daunted students entirely driven by coffee and energy drinks.

Dan, Nathan, and Zoe were outside in the Aquatic section of the school’s surroundings, trying to practice their ability to control weather. For their exam in Waterbending, they had to make it rain inside the classroom. The three teens were drenched to the bone, their hair hanging limply at their sides. So far, only Dan was successful with a full rain storm whereas Nathan and Zoe had merely done drizzle.

Dan shivered slightly as Zoe took stance again, raising her palms to the sky and closing her eyes. Her drawn in eyebrows were furrowed together in focus, her lip drawn between her teeth. Dan tried to fix their black velvet choker, which was damp and cold on their neck. Only a few silent seconds passed until a greyish black cloud appeared above the trio, just about the size of a large trampoline. Nathan and Dan exchanged knowing looks just as it began to rain. It wasn't drizzle anymore, mainly just a bit more rain. Needless to say, it was an improvement.

Zoe opened her eyes, looking around and dancing around, clapping her hands like a giddy child. “It's getting better!” she cheered, eyes twinkling excitedly. Dan patted her back, smiling at their friend. “Nathan, your turn!” she squealed, stepping aside to give him some more room.

Nathan took the same intense position as Zoe had a few minutes later, palms up and eyes closed. After a second, a thick grey cloud the size of a mini trampoline appeared above them. Another few seconds passed and it began raining down around them. It was much heavier than the last time he did it, but still not bucketing it down.

Nathan opened his eyes again, shaking his frizzing hair of the excess water. He held his hands up for a high five from both of his pals. There was an awkward fumble as both of them tried to high five his right hand. Giggling, Dan high fived his left hand instead.

Dan shivered, fixing their choker again and tossing their hair aside. “Can we please go back inside? I’m freezing and literally swimming in my shoes,” they whined, squelching their feet to prove how soaking they were.

“Let's go back and get changed and then meet up in the library, yeah? We should study for the written part,” Zoe suggested, tying her damp hair into a ponytail.

Nathan whined nasally, crossing his arms. “But I’m too tired,” he groaned, following his friends up to the castle. Their shoes all squeaked on the tile floors as they made their way up their consecutive rooms. Nathan and Zoe's rooms were located on the same side, so they diverged at the stairs, leaving Dan to climb the four flights alone.

Dan stripped off their skinny jeans, dropping them into the hamper as soon as he got to their room. They peeled off their snowman underwear and then their black Muse t-shirt. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, they started on their hair first, standing butt naked in the bathroom.

They were humming a Rita Ora song as they rubbed their curly hair dry when they heard a soft click. Deciding to ignore it, they continued to scrub their hair vigorously with the towel.

Suddenly, a high pitched whistling filled the air and a split second later, the toilet door swung open. Standing in the doorway, Lester was blushing profusely like a bridesmaid being hit on by the groom. He spluttered and choked as Dan shrieked like a banshee, darting to cover their modesty with the flannel. Lester squeaked and hurried out of the toilet, slamming the door shut.

Dan finished drying their hair and wrapped the towel around their waist, shuffling into the dorm. Lester was sitting on the bed spread of his own bed, staring into middle distance with wide eyes. Dan cleared their throat and walked over to the chest of drawers, ferreting around until they pulled out an outfit. They disappeared in the bathroom again.

A few minutes later, Dan was dressed into another pair of black skinny jeans, a Sexual Fantasies jumper and a velvet red choker with a silver star dangling from it. Their naturally wavy hair was freshly straightened as well. Lester was still shell-shocked on his bed, bobbing his leg up and down from where it rested on the floor.

Dan grunted a goodbye and stumbled out of the room, slinging their bag over their shoulders. They hurried down the stairs to the library, gasping for breath by the time they found Zoe and Nathan again. “Woah, Dan, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Zoe exclaimed when they plopped down into a seat across from her.

Dan explained the whole ordeal with Lester strolling into the toilet to find them completely nude. Nathan ended up falling out of his seat, cackling loudly and clutching his stomach. Zoe gasped, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle. Dan groaned, annoyed by their friends who seem much less dismayed as them, and put their head on the table.

“Why is it always me?” they whined, voice muffled by the sleeves of their shirt.

—

A few days later, Professor Kirk, who taught Sexuality Studies went around the classroom with a list for people to sign if they wanted to stay at school for the winter break. Dan leapt out of their seat immediately, pen in hand and scribbled down their name at the top. Only Dan’s friends knew that the reason that they weren't going home was because they came out as non-binary and bisexual (even though they were pan)to their mother, but she didn't take it very well.

Unsurprisingly, Lester signed his name as well. He had never gone home over the holidays. Dan half wondered why he never went home, but another half knew it wasn't their business. Troye also signed his name, along with Rhea. It was going to be an interesting Christmas this year without family, but Dan was looking forward to spending it with their friends. It would be a wild ride.

A notoriously awkward boy with dyed purple hair signed his name on the list as well. In fact, most of the students who took Sexuality Studies signed their names. Perhaps, Dan wondered, they weren't welcome home due to their sexualities or gender identities (or both). It made Dan wonder why Lester was on that list.

Although, now that Dan thought about it, Lester had never really shown much interest in girls in their time at school. He had never dated anyone in all the years, which made Dan wonder if he was perhaps asexual. Or just really closeted. Maybe both? Dan brushed aside their curiosity, reminding themself that they didn't actually like Lester. At all.

Once the list had gone around the students, Professor Kirk returned it to her desk and turned back to the front. “Okay, class. Today we will be talking about a rather interesting topic, I think you’ll find,” she announced, a sneaky smirk displayed on her purple-glossed lips. The class looked around at each other curiously, raising their eyebrows and whispering in confusion and mild intrigue.

She clapped her hands together, visibly startling Lester who flinched in his seat, his face scarlet. Dan rolled their eyes. “Today, we talk about sex. Specifically, the queer kind,” she announced. Mumblings and chattering filled the room as a result, mostly excited. Professor Kirk grinned proudly to herself, turning around to start writing notes on the board.

After the lesson was finished, there was still a few minutes left for people to mingle. Everyone was blushing and giggling from the lesson, muttering to each other about the intriguing period. Dan hopped up onto their desk, swinging their legs as they began a conversation with Rhea and Troye, asking them both what they thought.

“Well, I sure am glad I actually know something for once,” Rhea replied, rolling her eyes. Dan’s eyes flicked to her wrist which, today, was adorned with a pink rubber band. 

Shortly after Dan and Rhea came out to each other in their third year, they created a system for Dan to know what pronouns to use for Rhea. On “girl” days, she wore a pastel pink rubber band, on “boy” days, he wore a baby blue one and on “whatever/non-binary” days, they wore a purple wristband. It was foolproof.

Troye on the other hand said, “I mean, it's a pretty self explanatory activity. It's more obscure to hear about girl on girl, to be fair.” Dan and Rhea nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, a few tables away, Phil Lester was piping up conversation with the boy with cool hair, Thomas Sanders. “What did you think of the lesson?” he asked, leaning on the desk a bit.

“It could be gayer,” Thomas replied, grinning. “I’m just kidding. It was interesting, certainly. What did you think?” Phil agreed that it sure was interesting. They fell into an easy, smooth conversation which turned to Harry Potter and then Broadway musicals.

The bell for second period rang, breaking up the class’s conversations. Students filed back to their seats to pack their bags and head to their next classes, all still talking about whatever they were talking about prior to the bell's appearance. Phil said his goodbyes to Thomas and they went their separate directions, Phil going to Meteorology, Thomas to Astronomy.

—

On Christmas morning, Dan woke up to the excruciatingly loud sound of Mariah Carey singing in their ears, jolting into a seated position. Dan looked wildly around and saw Lester sitting at the foot of his own bed, rifling through a blue and white stocking with silver bells on it. They jingled violently every time it moved.

Dan rubbed their eyes, brushing their hair out of their face. “Lester, what the fuck are you doing?” they asked, looking down at their watch, “It's literally 7:55 in the morning and you’re blasting Mariah Carey.” Lester shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring them.

Dan groaned irritably and flopped back onto their back, covering their ears with a pillow. “All I want for Christmas right now is for you to not be my fucking roommate. Jesus fucking Christ!” they whined, rolling over and trying to muffle the sound as much as possible.

After a few minutes of desperately trying to block out the sound, Dan sat up again, looking at Lester. “Can you at least turn the volume down? Please?” he asked, his voice soft and higher than normal. Where did that come from, he thought. Lester looked slowly over at Dan, biting his lip. He sighed lightly and reached behind him, turning the volume down substantially.

Dan sighed in relief, not even bothering to thank Lester before falling back onto the bed and burrowing under the covers. They were met with the sweet release of sleep again within a few minutes of softly playing Christmas music.

“Dan! Dan! Get up! It's Christmas!” Dan jolted awake for the second time that morning, looking around frantically. Sitting on the foot of their bed, clutching a few wrapped parcels, was Rhea. Dan noticed a pale blue band on his wrist today. Meanwhile, Troye was sitting on Lester’s bed, right next to Kat. Her parents were in Rome that Christmas, so Kat decided to just stay at school instead of travelling with her parents.

Dan rubbed their eyes with the heels of their palms, yawning vocally. “Wha’ time is it?” they mumbled, too lazy to check the sleek black watch on their wrist.

Troye pulled his phone out of his back pocket. “10:03,” he replied, putting it back in his jeans again.

“Okay… how did you guys get into my room anyway?” they asked suspiciously, throwing the covers off of their legs. They padded over to their drawers and shuffled through in search of some clothes.

“Troye waited outside for Lester to leave and then let us all in,” Rhea replied, standing up from the bed. He watched Dan pull out a fuzzy black jumper with a white frowny face on it and then a pair of their usual ripped black skinny jeans.

Dan rolled their eyes at Rhea’s answer. Of course Troye broke into their room. Why weren't they surprised? They marched into the toilet and disappeared for a few minutes while they got dressed and straightened their hair. From inside the toilet, Dan called out, “Do you guys think I should wear some makeup or nah?”

There was a knock at the door and Dan let in Kat. “Yes, yes and yes,” she replied brightly, pushing Dan out of the way of the mirror on the wall above the sink, “Now move, bitch. Let me just work my magic.” She searched through Dan’s rather small makeup collection for a few minutes, tutting a few times at the size and the various brands. Dan wasn't an expert, to say the least. They just bought whatever they thought might work.

“Sit,” she stated, pointing at the toilet. Dan sat down on the lid, looking up at the girl. She pulled a concealer, which she immediately applied to their under eyes, which Dan was certain were dark and grey. Next, she applied some mascara to their upper and lower eyelashes, her wrist flicking smoothly. She closed the pale blue tube and put it back in the black makeup bag. It had an embroidered D on it. “Do you want eyeliner or not because you’d look pretty damn badass if you did,” she asked, holding a tube of eyeliner liquid. Dan shrugged and then nodded. She grinned and leaned forward to slowly and precisely administered the liner. Dan struggled to keep from blinking, but in the end managing to succeed.

Kat stepped back to admire her work, tilting her head. “Lipstick or no lipstick?” she asked, biting her lip and tilting her head the other way again. Dan shook their head.

“No thanks. I just want something casual, you know? Nothing too outrageous,” they replied casually, standing up from the toilet lid to look in the mirror. Dan couldn't help but let their jaw drop. It wasn't often that they didn't dread looking at themself in the mirror. The perfectly utilised eyeliner framed their eyes flawlessly, making their golden brown eyes pop out nicely. The mascara made their eyes look even bigger and more awake than they had ever seen it.

Even though it was only a few minor changes to their appearance, Dan grinned at their reflection before turning to Kat and pulling her into a hug. “Thank you,” they whispered into her hair.

Downstairs at breakfast/brunch, Phil was at his usual table with PJ and Dodie, all eating their waffles with copious amounts of syrup and whipped cream. This time, Thomas was with them, fangirling about musicals with Dodie, an avid music lover. Every so often, they would randomly burst into a duet for a few lines until they burst out laughing.

Phil grinned, talking to PJ about a recent episode of Steven Universe with his mouth full. He was glad that bringing Thomas into their group had turned out to be a good idea. He was a genuinely lovely person whose company Phil enjoyed and he was even happier that his friends liked him as well.

“I actually screamed at that part,” PJ was saying, cutting a piece of his waffle off, his knife scraping the plate. Phil blanched, scrunching his face up. He hated that sound.

Regaining himself, Phil nodded. “Yeah, same. It was so cool!” he replied. He opened his mouth to add another part when suddenly Dan Howell and a few of his friends entered the room. There was something different about him today, but Phil couldn't quite place it.

“Is…is Howell wearing makeup?” PJ asked, putting his fork down and looking over at Howell as he sat down with his friends only a couple of tables away.

Dodie looked as well, nodding robustly. “Yeah, and he looks good!” she stage whispered, eyes wide. Phil hated to admit that she was kind of right. Howell’s eyes suddenly stood out a lot more and his little green and red choker added to the look. He was also, Phil noticed, sporting a pair of emerald green earrings which flashed in the fluorescent lights.

“He certainly looks very festive,” Phil agreed, still staring at Howell from his side of the room. Dodie nodded, turning back to her meal, seemingly uninterested in the turn of events. Everyone else at the table seemed to return to their regular Christmas meals, except for Phil who was still mesmerised. “Since when did Howell wear makeup and why?” he asked after a beat.

His friends turned to look at him, all eyeing him suspiciously. “I dunno. Today, maybe?” PJ offered, shrugging his jumper-clad shoulders.

“I think he wore makeup a few weeks ago, too. But it was just mascara and a bit of blush, I’m pretty sure,” Dodie replied, putting her cutlery down to take a sip of her non-alcoholic eggnog.

Thomas nodded. “I think so, too. Unless you count the time he had to dress up in drag for Drama a few weeks ago,” Thomas replied, pointing at seemingly nothing.

“Drag?!” PJ exclaimed, eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. Phil even doubletaked.

Thomas nodded. “Course. I had to do it, too. It was part of a scene we were working on in our devised piece,” Thomas replied simply, as if this answered everything.

Phil shook his head, trying to shake away all thoughts of Howell. His fingers found his badge absentmindedly and he fidgeted with it for the rest of breakfast. The rest of the day, really.

—

Screaming. Shouting. Running. Tripping. Yelping. Crying. Yelling. Pushing. Falling.

That was all that the world seemed to have, now. No one knew what was going on, but one minute there was peace in the school entrance hall and the next it was chaos. One minute the noise was just the usual drone of conversations mixing together and the next there was a deafening roar for a split second and then it was a world of screams.

Phil was on his way to Defence and Combat alone when it all happened. His teacher for Geology wanted to talk to him about a type of rock Phil wanted to make just before the end of the lesson, which held him up after the rest of the students had filed out. Bag bouncing off his back, Phil jogged to try to reach his next class in time.

Suddenly, the normal noise stopped for a second as Phil reached the top of the stairs. A massive explosion erupted in the hall and screams echoed around the room. Students were thrown this way and that in the explosion and some of the walls and the ceiling began to crumble around them. Phil yelped, grabbing the railing for support to keep from falling down the stairs as the floor began to shake violently.

More screams filled the hall as the ground vibrated horribly, showering the panicking students in debris from the building falling in on them. Nearby, a window shattered, showering Phil and the others in glass. Most students were stumbling around to get away, but a few students lay disproportionately and haphazardly around the floor, making Phil feel sick to his stomach.

“Phil! Phil, what’s going on!” Phil turned to find Nikita gripping the railing as well, trying to trip her way over through the earthquake. She ducked to the side as a particularly large piece of rubble fell down next to her, squeaking.

Phil shook his head, holding on for dear life to the banister. “I don't know! There was some kind of explosion and now there's an earthquake!” he called over the screaming still going on around them.

“Wait, aren't you an Earth student? Can't Earthen people control earthquakes?” Nikita asked, trying to move closer. She struggled from the violent quaking of the floor below.

Phil’s eyes widened and he reached out to slap his friend’s arm excitedly. “You’re right! We can!” he yelled, trying not to stumble on the top step. “Okay, hold on!” he shouted, slowly beginning to crouch down.

Phil got down on his hands and knees, splaying his fingers out on the cracking tile floor. Nikita watched from above, still clutching the handle for dear life. Phil closed his eyes and tried to focus only on the ground. He took a deep breath in and then let it out slowly. He repeated this action again, practically begging the earth to stop shaking.

Almost as soon as Phil started, the floor began to slow its shaking. Soon enough, the trembling came to an abrupt and complete stop. The screaming seemed to lessen as the students realised the floor was no longer trying to do the cha cha slide.

“Phil! Phil, you fucking did it!” Nikita screamed, helping pull Phil to his feet. He could feel a shard of glass or some other debris in his hand, but ignored it. “You stopped the earthquake!” she shrieked, pulling him into a tight hug.

Someone behind them scoffed. Niki and Phil pulled away to turn to see Howell standing before them. Phil couldn't help but notice his head was bleeding, probably from some debris. “You probably didn't stop the fucking earthquake, Lester. You probably just got lucky by getting on your hands and knees at the right time. Like a dog,” Howell sneered, smirking cruelly at Phil. Phil swallowed, his stomach spinning like a top.

Nikita rolled her eyes. She pushed past Phil and stood in front of Howell, crossing her arms over her chest. Her cornrows swayed when she moved, cascading over her shoulders and chest. “Phil is a hero. Shut your trap and stop being a jealous prick,” she snapped, “Just because you didn't manage to save the day or whatever, doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it.”

She started to turn around and leave Howell alone, but stopped. She turned back around again and glowered up at Howell. He was at least six feet at the least and, while she was tall for a girl at 5’9”, he still towered over her. “Oh, and you might wanna get your head checked out. That looks painful. And not just because you got hit in the head, dumbass,” she crooned, pointing to a small gash on his head and turning on her heel. She grabbed Phil’s wrist and tugged him after her down the steps.

 

“Ow, my hand!” he squeaked as she dragged him down the staircase. They stopped to pull out the tiny lopsided triangle of glass from his palm and flicked it aside.

The two of them continued down the steps the rest of the way at a normal pace, until Phil noticed something at the far side of the hall. Lying against one of the pillars next to the doors to the lunch hall, unconscious, was PJ. Phil yelped and sprinted over to his best friend on the floor.

“PJ! Oh my God, PJ!” he screamed, grabbing the boy’s shoulders. He shook his shoulders back and forth in a hopeless attempt to wake him up. Phil continued to wail out his friend's name, clutching his shoulders. “Fuck. Oh my God. Niki, do something!” Phil shrieked, looking up at her while still holding his friend.

Phil looked around the room at the other students who laid indiscriminately around the entrance. Other awake students were in similar states of distress as Phil was, clutching friends or crying out. “Get help, Niki! These people need help!” Phil ordered, his voice higher than average.  
Niki nodded and spun on her heel, her long braided hair whipping around with her. As soon as Niki was gone, Phil went back to panicking over his friend. He pulled the boy’s head and torso into his lap, hugging him close. PJ had a large gash across his head where a constant trickle of blood was oozing from. It made Phil want to be sick.

A few minutes later, Niki returned with the matron and her other nurse types who all jumped into action on the students. Linda, the head matron, had to physically drag Phil off of PJ while he screamed. Niki had to help as well.

“Phil, you have to get off,” Niki demanded, pulling Phil away finally. Phil tried to slap her away but failed, letting her instead drag him away. He cried the entire way to class.

An announcement blared over the school suddenly, stopping Phil and Niki in their tracks. “Students, please report to your next class to get instructions from your teachers. Thank you.” The headmistress’s voice called over the speaker, clear and calming.

“Come on, Phil. Let's just go to the class and we'll find out what to do next,” Niki insisted, pulling Phil further down the hall. He stumbled after her in a mostly numb state.

When they reached the classroom, most of the others were already there. Dodie, who was also in their class, sprinted over to them, her eyes filled with worry. “Phil! Niki! What happened?” she asked, looking back and forth between the two. Niki explained everything about Pj, knowing perfectly well that everyone knew about the earthquake and the explosion. “Oh, shit! I hope he’ll be okay!” she exclaimed once Niki was done explaining.

At that moment, Professor Ansari entered the room. The students there got into their seats and looked hopefully at their teacher. She didn't look too happy. She adjusted her black and blue hijab on her head and took a deep breath. She looked stressed.

“Due to an unfortunate and unforeseen reason, a sudden explosion occurred in the main entry hall,” she began, “Shortly after, a violent earthquake started underneath the school only. There is no idea as to what caused either, nor what stopped the earthqua—”

Niki’s hand shot into the air, interrupting Professor Ansari’s train of thought. She turned to Niki, nodding for her to state what she wanted to. Phil felt his cheeks burn, putting his head on the desk. “Actually, the person who stopped the earthquake was Phil,” she stated clearly.

All eyes were on Phil as he continued to lay on the table, his eyes closed. He hoped that maybe if he didn't see anyone, it wouldn't be happening. Perhaps he was dreaming. “Are you sure? How do you know?” Professor Ansari asked, her voice both intrigued and suspicious.

Niki explained how she had found Phil at the top of the stairs, clutching the handle rail and then got the idea from her to try to stop the earthquake. Phil looked up finally, once the story was done, keeping his chin rested on his arms. He hated being the centre of attention.

An odd thought popped into Phil’s head suddenly and he gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Wait, if an Earthen student stopped the earthquake, doesn't that mean that an Earthen student could have started the quake, too?” he stage whispered. Phil paled. He was terrified that the class would consider this and he would be blamed for starting the earthquake as well.

Professor Ansari hummed and hawed, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “Mr. Lester, I think you might just be onto something,” she said, looking around the room. “I really must bring that to the headmistress. Mr. Lester, will you join me?”

Phil swallowed, his eyes widening. He looked desperately back and forth between his friends, begging them for help. But he knew that he couldn't possibly go against her. Standing up, Phil followed Professor Ansari slowly out of the classroom, feeling 12 pairs of eyes watching him.  
Phil followed Professor Ansari in silence all the way up ten flights of stairs to the headmistress’s office. right next to the entrance hall. He was weak in the knees and gasping for breath by the time he got there, feeling as if he might collapse soon. Either that or just die. He didn't know which he wanted more at this moment as Professor Ansari knocked three times on the door.

Only a few seconds ticked by before the door creaked open to reveal the headmistress. Her long dark hair was tied back in a pristine, faultless ponytail and her makeup looked stunningly perfect. Phil was a little surprised, considering the current situation.

She ushered them both in with a delicate, swift motion of the hand. Inside her office was just as quintessential as the headmistress herself. Madam Birchwood’s office was a large, circular room with a metal black desk in the center. The items on the desk were neatly formatted and not a single stack of papers was too high or low.

She had a leather chair sitting behind it as well. There were many paintings of previous headmasters and headmistresses hanging around the walls, most over the age of at least 50. None of them were even remotely crooked. She had a giant circular rug on the floor, which looked recently cleaned, not a crease or crinkle in sight.

It was almost too perfect for Phil’s liking.

“Please sit,” Madam Birchwood stated delicately, sitting down behind her desk. The two small chairs in front of her desk looked rather stiff and uncomfortable, but nonetheless Phil sat down. Professor Ansari situated herself on the other chair, her hands placed primly in her lap.

“Now, Afiya, please explain to me why you brought Mr. Philip Lester to my office? You see, I am very busy at the moment after the whole ordeal downstairs,” she stated, her voice calm and to the point. Phil was oddly comforted by her voice. It was sweet yet formal, almost motherly.

Professor Ansari retold what Niki had said during class and Phil watched as the head of the school nodded along. “Ah, I see. Do you suppose it was Mr. Lester here that caused the attack?” Madam Birchwood asked. Phil stiffened. This was exactly what he was afraid of.

His heart started beating ferociously in his chest, as if it was trying to break out of the ribs encasing it in his chest. His sweaty palms shook at his side. “Because I truly do not think that it was he who did it,” she added, making Phil double take.

“Mr. Lester here has quite the track record,” she began, “He’s had straight A’s in all of his classes. He regularly volunteers to help his teachers, who all adore him. Including you, Afiya. He is one of our 5th year prefects as well. He is described as friendly and loyal and also intelligent and creative.

“I, somehow, cannot see such a brilliant role model of a student doing such a thing. Besides, why would he stop the earthquake if he wanted to cause damage? Hardly any damage has been made to the school!” Phil was blushing profusely by the time Madam Birchwood was finished. Did he really get described that way? Did people think of him as a role model student?

Professor Ansari shook her head. “But two students have died!” she exclaimed, raising her voice slightly. Phil jumped, his heart skipping. He hadn't realised that anyone had died. What if PJ was one of them? “And besides, I wasn't accusing Lester of starting the earthquake. He had some sort of revelation that it must have been an earth student that started the earthquake in the first place.”

Once Professor Ansari explained, Phil was excused from the office. He was thankful for the escape, desperate to find his friends and find out if PJ was okay. He didn't know what he would do with himself if something happened to PJ.

—

Dan could tell that Lester was stressed. After the explosion and following earthquake as an aftershock, Lester hardly spent any time in their dorm. He slept in it and that was it. Even a few times he neglected coming up. Dan wondered where the boy went off to on these nights. They wondered whether they were staying the night in another person’s room or if he was just wandering the halls. He was a prefect as well, after all, so he would have the excuse.

Of course, it wasn't a secret that Lester’s friend PJ Liguori was one of the students in hospital. They suspected that that might be where Lester would go off to.

When Lester was in the room, he was the epitome of stress. He was visibly shaking almost as much as the school had a few days ago and tended to wipe his hands on his jeans, as if they were excessively sweaty. He also seemed to get annoyed with Dan easily and for the weirdest reasons. He often showed up to the room with his hair quiffed, a sign Dan knew meant that he had been running his hands through it.

Nevertheless, Dan tried to ignore the worried thoughts popping into their head.

They were currently lying on their front, scrolling through Tumblr and swinging their feet back and forward. They double tapped on a picture of a cozy looking sweater with a yellow book sitting on it, warm light shining on the items. They scrolled down to a text post that was ranting about the difference between Sherlolly and Johnlock and another post about Harry Potter.

They were deep in the realm of aesthetic posts and rambles when the bedroom door unlocked and Lester marched in looking worse for wear. He had deep grey bags under his normally bright blue eyes, his ebony hair quiffed messily again. His palms were shaking at his sides as he wandered aimlessly into the dormitory and into the toilet. Dan continued their browsing while Lester shuffled around the toilet for a few minutes before returning with his glasses on and his hair back in its usual side fringe.

Without a word, Lester stumbled into bed, picking up the book on his bedside table. He was still reading it(though he had turned the page maybe twice since he got into bed an hour ago)by the time Dan shut their laptop and got into bed theirself. Dan watched Lester in the dim light of his lamp, barely more than a silhouette, as he 'read’ his book for another few hours.

Eventually, Lester let out a deep sigh and closed his book, putting it on the bedside table and turning off the light. Dan was still awake, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Phil continued to sigh and grunt for a good part of the night until he finally fell into a restless sleep at around 3.

Dan was wakened up a total of four times that night due to Phil screaming from nightmares.

—

Phil was sitting next to PJ’s bedside, bobbing his knee up and down while trying to read a Harry Potter book. The words, however, were not even being processed by his brain, zipping right past him. They were drowned out by his anxious and intrusive thoughts which occupied his head for the most part were constantly whispering negatively in his ear. They told him that PJ would die or never wake up.

Chris entered the hospital, walking past the other students still in the infirmary and sat down next to Phil; he still had a bandage wrapped around his head from stray rubble grazing him in the earthquake.

“Heya, Philly! How are ya?” he greeted, patting Phil’s back in salutation. Phil shrugged, blindly turning the page of his book. “Peej still not up yet?” he added, making Phil stiffen at the mention.

Phil shook his head robotically, the speed of his knee bouncing increasing. He wiped his hands on his school trousers again. Chris didn't stop talking the entire time he was in the infirmary, his voice in a constant stream of words which Phil didn't process at all either.

Phil looked down at his watch just as Chris stood up. It was eight o’clock, which mean they had first period in ten minutes. Sighing, Phil got up as well and grabbed his sky blue backpack, following Chris out of the room. He muttered a goodbye to PJ, squeezing his hand, before they made their way out together. Phil gave a silent, knowing greeting to other people he passed who were sitting at their friends’ bedsides.

First period went by without a hitch. Second period went by without a commotion. Break went by without a problem. Third period, however, didn't.

Halfway through Earthbending, without PJ, Phil acknowledged constantly, there was a soft knock at the door. Professor Jung Bae looked up from his text that he was reading out and looked over at the door. “Mellet, would you get the door please?” he asked, jutting his chin at Howell’s friend Troye. The curly haired boy nodded and ambled over to the black metal door.

The matron, Linda, was standing in the doorway. Troye walked back to his own seat and sat down while Linda mosied over to the desk at the front. She whispered back and forth with Professor Jung Bae for a few moments and then nodded sharply, exiting the room again without another word.

Professor Jung Bae cleared his throat as soon as the door was shut behind the woman. “The matron would like me to inform you that several of the students from the January Incident are awake,” he droned. Phil’s ears perked and he looked around, his heart beating in his chest. “These students include Miranda Smethers, Jack Howard and PJ Liguori,” he announced, counting off his long slender fingers.

Phil barely stopped himself from leaving the class, instead spending the rest of the period bobbing his knee up and down in anticipation. As soon as the bell rang, he packed his bag up swiftly and hurried to the hospital wing. 

He didn't bother knocking on the door, instead throwing it open and hurrying down the aisle. PJ was sitting up in bed, looking weary and exhausted with his glasses sitting haphazardly on his nose.

“PJ! You’re awake!” Phil exclaimed, running up to his friend’s bedside and pulling him into a tight hug. PJ hugged back weakly and Phil could feel him smiling against his shoulder.

“I am!” PJ joked as he pulled out of the hug a moment later. “What are you doing here? Don't you have class?” he added, creasing his eyebrows. He reached up and fixed his glasses on his nose.

Phil shrugged, plopping into the seat next to him. “Yeah, but I’d much rather see that you're okay,” he replied nonchalantly, “When do you get out of here, anyway?”

“Tomorrow.”

Phil clapped his hands together, grinning gleefully. “I’ll be here tomorrow after school, then,” he replied, still beaming. His usual sunshiney self was back.

—

Phil stayed the night in PJ and Chris’s room. They moved the bedside table out of the way and pushed their beds together and Phil slept in the centre on the rather awkward crack between them. It was cozy, though, and the three boys slept soundly.

The next day, Phil was back to sleeping in his own room with Howell. He entered the room shortly after Howell, who was leaning over his homework on the bed. He looked up as he entered, putting his pen down on his notebook.

“Where have you been these past few weeks? I swear you're only here half the time,” Howell commented as Phil heeled his trainers off and kicked them aside.

Phil shrugged, biting his lip. “I… I’ve been visiting PJ in the infirmary most nights,” he replied quietly, avoiding eye contact. Phil’s heart was sprinting again, his hands shaking and perspiring again. “He was hurt in the explosion in January,” he added, prying his jeans off and putting on emoji trousers.

“At night? Wasn't he asleep then?” Howell asked skeptically, making a face.

Phil nodded. “He’s been unconscious for three weeks,” he replied shortly, going into the toilet to take out his contacts and brush his teeth. He re-entered the room a few minutes later, wearing his glasses.

“Wait, if he was unconscious, why were you visiting him so much? It's not like he could answer you or anything,” Howell pointed out, an almost accusatory look on his features. Phil wanted to punch his stupid face.

Keeping himself from assaulting his roommate, Phil climbed into bed and turned off the light. “If your friend is ever unconscious in the hospital, then you’ll know,” he replied shortly, rolling over onto his side, hugging his checked pillow to his chest.

Dan could hear Lester falling asleep rather uneasily. They could practically hear him trembling, gasping every few second. He was crying as well. Dan felt hopeless and guilty. It was their fault Lester was feeling like this and there was nothing they could do to help him.

—

The next morning, Phil woke up to an empty bedroom. Normally, Howell would be up after him, whining about having to get up. He would at least be in their room straightening his hair or brushing his teeth. Phil checked the time on his clock, fearful that he was late, but it was only 7:02. Their alarm went off at 7:05.

Phil noticed something shiny sitting next to the clock. He put his glasses on to see better. Sitting on top of his book was a bar of his favourite chocolate. The only other person who could have possibly put that there was Howell.


	10. Chapter Ten

Phil had never been prouder. He was looking in the floor length mirror of his bedroom, admiring his fancy forest green tie with gold piping, his chest puffing proudly. His eyes kept trailing to his new Head Boy (HB, as it said over the school crest) badge. He flicked his tongue over his lip piercing, which he only got a few weeks ago. Because he was in 7th year, his old tie was now replaced with a fancier one.

He grabbed his concealer again and rolled up his sleeve to touch up the makeup on his arm. You could still faintly see grey hand prints, but they were much less obvious than earlier. Sighing, Phil put his sleeve down again and grabbed his trunk and bag.

His trunk banged loudly on every descending step, echoing in the old house. “Mum, I’m on my way out, now!” he hollered, not bothering to listen for a goodbye before opening the front door and starting towards the taxi which was parked out front.

He tossed his bag into the back, grinning at the driver and climbed into the back seat, pulling out his phone immediately. “Just heading to the station. C u guys soon x” he texted to a group chat with Thomas, Dodie, Niki, PJ and Chris. The car started up and the driver pulled away from the curb.

A few hours later, Phil was making his way up the escalator, dragging his trunk up behind him. He fidgeted with the tag of it as it got caught on the top, panicking slightly as images of those videos of people dying on them flashing in his mind.

He strolled through the station, humming tunelessly until he reached the station platform. Dodie and PJ were huddled together by the pile of cases when he pushed through the barrier. “Peej! Doddle!” he screamed, waving erratically with his cactus-clad fingers. He got a cactus and succulent tattoo on every one of his fingers for his 16th birthday and absolutely adored them. He even named them all.

Dodie's eyes lit up and she elbowed PJ, whose own eyes lit up as well. They waited for him to deposit his bag on the pile before pulling him into a group hug. “Guys! Hey, guys!” a familiar American voice called from behind them. The trio pulled apart just in time for Thomas to appear on the platform, throwing his arms around them.

“Hey, Thomas! How was America?” Phil asked, pulling out of the hug. He flinched slightly as something bumped his still bruised arm.

Thomas went on a rant about America, complaining a few times about the president. Near the end of his spiel, Chris and Niki appeared together, running over and dropping their bags. “Hey, head boy, looking good!” Chris commented flicking his badge and piercing accordingly.

Phil blushed, shrugging his shoulders. “You guys gonna miss me today? I have to be in the Prefects part of the train for the first hour or so,” he explained to the now complete group.

Phil was stumbling through the train a few minutes later, in search of the Prefects carriage. He greeted a few classmates as he passed, flashing a broad grin. “Oh, sorry, 'scuse me,” Phil muttered, pushing past someone in the narrow hallway. It took him a moment to realise it was none other than his roommate Dan Howell.

“Erm, sorry,” Howell replied sheepishly. He followed Phil down the rest of the train. “I swear I’m not a stalker. I’m Depute Head Boy this year, you see,” he said after a minute of silence as they marched through the train. “Don't you have your friends to sit with?” he added after another second.

Phil shook his head. “I’m Head Boy so–wait, you’re the Depute?” He stopped in his tracks. Clearly not expecting the abrupt halt, Howell walked straight into him, jumping back a little.

He nodded. “Yeah.” Oh no.

They reached the Prefects carriage, finally, and Phil held the door open for Howell. The other prefects and the head girls were already there, situated in seats around the carriage. Professor Ansari was there as well, leaning against a table and looking bored.

“So glad of you two to arrive,” she drawled, grinning jokingly. While she tried to sound intimidating to the students, she always had a smile on her face to counterbalance it. She was one of Phil’s favourite teachers in the school. “Please, sit down,” she added, motioning to some seats.

Phil situated himself in a chair next to the Depute Head Girl, Bree Hartford, while Howell sat next to the Head Girl, Caitlin North. Once both boys were seated, Professor Ansari went into her explanation that she went through every year. Phil mostly ignored her, instead looking at Howell; he looked different somehow, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He finally listened as he heard his name come up. “...And Phil, you and Dan will have to be working together a bit more this year. It shouldn't be too hard, seeing as you’re dorm mates,” she says, immediately going onto her next topic. 

Phil and Howell exchanged weird looks. Phil wasn't quite sure what the look meant, exactly, but he had a hunch. He wasn't so sure it was dread, though. But he certainly wasn't looking forward to having to spend all his time with his rival. 

This was going to be a long year.

—

Instead of going to dinner that evening, Dan went up to their room early. They were having a few crises. All of them were related to Mr. Phil Lester.

He got his lip pierced. A fucking lip piercing. It was a silver hoop which flashed in the dim light of the train, practically magnetic to Dan’s eyes. Yeah, that was why they were looking at Lester’s lips.

It definitely wasn't because they had had a crush on him since they were fucking 15 years old.

It took Dan a while to realise that was what it was. After constantly worrying about him when he kept on disappearing after the January Incident, Dan suddenly found themself worrying about his every move. They were always watching the boy, as if he might explode any second. What started as a casual worrying turned into faintly admiring the boy.

They watched him fix his hair half-heartedly during classes, went swimming in his clear blue eyes, felt their heart skip a beat every time they made eye contact with him. They thought about what it would be like to hold hands or to kiss or to… do other stuff. It was painful knowing none of it was likely to happen because of their rivalry.

Phil arrived at the room after dinner, having noticed Howell’s absence. It was weird to not see the loud and obnoxious boy at a table with his friends, usually laughing or telling a story. He was remarkably social for someone who was a self-renowned introvert.

When Phil returned, Howell was already in bed, scrolling through his computer. Phil finally realised why Howell looked different. His hair was curly. And he had to admit, it suited him. At least a little bit…

Phil went into the bathroom to get ready. He pulled out his piercing and his contacts and brushed his teeth, coming back out in a t-shirt and a pair of Sonic pants sticking out of his emoji trousers.

“I have those same pants,” Howell commented when Phil exited the toilet. Phil looked at Howell curiously and the other boy turned bright red in the face, clearing his throat. Phil smirked and climbed into bed, putting on his glasses and opening his book.

Both of them have trouble getting to sleep that night.

—

An exhausted Dan made their way towards their first period class, Defence and Combat, their feet dragging on the floor. They didn't manage to fall asleep until five am and even then they didn't have a very good time. They relived a few terrifying scenes in their life which left them feeling overly anxious when they woke up.

When they got to class, they were surprised to find half of the class standing against the wall, whispering quietly among each other. Dan shuffled over to stand near a girl he was relatively acquainted with named Aubrey. He didn't really know many other people well as his friends had all dropped the class this year.

Phil showed up a minute later, his hair flying off his forehead. Dan’s heart skipped a beat when they made eye contact, feeling their cheeks warm up like an oven. He slipped in next to his friend, Chris, a few people down from Dan.

A few minutes passed and everyone had finally showed up. Professor Ansari, who was sitting on the edge of her desk the entire time, steering students towards the far wall, finally stood up. She wandered back and forth past the students, clicking her tongue. She had on a lovely emerald green hijab which made her eyes pop, which Dan thought suited her nicely.

“Now, I know most of your other classes will have stopped with assigned seating,” she began, shushing the students when they groaned, “But because it's your last year, I think you should all try to socialise a little bit before you leave here for good.” Dan rolled their eyes while others groaned or whispered to the friends next to them.

“We’re not fucking 5,” Aubrey whispered to her friend, Holly or Hailey. Dan silently agreed, but decided against it in fear of looking bad in front of the teacher. They were a bit of a teacher's pet, if they were being honest. Plus, they absolutely adored Professor Ansari.

“I heard that, Miss Holt,” Professor Ansari said, shooting a calculated gaze at the girl who instantly shrunk in on herself. “Anyway, let us begin the sorting,” she announced, pulling out a list from the top of her desk, “First row on the right we have, Miles and Christie…”

This went on and on for a few minutes until only a few people were left, including Dan. “Last row on the left we’ll have Dan and Phil,” she stated. Dan’s face burned as they looked disbelievingly at their teacher. Sighing, Dan carried their bag to the back, feeling Lester walking behind them.

Dan plopped into the right seat and pulled out their stuff. Lester grunted a quiet hello before situating himself in the seat on Dan’s left. This might not end well as Dan wrote with their left hand and Lester wrote with his right, but they’d make it work.

Once everyone was seated, Professor Ansari hopped up onto her desk, dangling her feet an inch above the ground. “Today is going to be an interesting lesson to begin with,” she stated, leaning back on the heels of her hands. “We’ll be working with defensive or offensive objects for the first term,” she said.

She hopped off of her desk, shooting a quick glance back at Dan and Lester. Dan had a strange feeling that she might ship them, having seated them together and asked them to spend more time together. She fished around under her desk for a moment before pulling out a cardboard box with a lid on it.

“These first objects are some very tricky, sensitive objects, like some of you, I suspect,” she stated, winking. She shuffled the lid off of the box, revealing a half dozen black spheres which glittered slightly. “They are known as Boil Balls, so named because when dropped or thrown, they will cause boils to erupt on the skin of the person or animal hit,” she explained, holding one up for then to see better.

She handed the one she was holding off to the first row with Miles and Christie and then went back to the box, lifting it up to bring the balls to the other tables. She handed the last orb to Dan, smiling softly at both of them before turning and carrying the now empty box to her desk again.

“Now, don't drop them,” she warned, sitting down behind her desk, “We’re just looking at them and then cutting them in half to inspect their insides.”

Lester poked Dan in their shoulder using his pen. “Can I look at it?” he asked softly, looking at the front to see if she could hear them. Dan very much doubted she’d even care at this rate. They were 17, not 12. Dan nodded and handed it carefully to the other.

While Professor Ansari was going around, passing out knives for cutting it open, Dan was bobbing their knee up and down, tapping their pen. “Do you write with your left hand?” Lester asked inquisitively, arching a single eyebrow. Dan nodded, feeling their eyes trailing to his lip again. There was a dot of spit on the metal of Lester’s lip ring.

Professor Ansari passed Lester the knife and walked back down the aisle to her desk. She turned to face the pupils, leaning on her desk. “So, carefully begin cutting the orbs in half. Try not to stab yourself or your partner and also, don't drop it,” she explained.

“Do you want me to get it?” Dan asked, reaching for the knife in Lester’s hand. Lester shook his head, a strip of dark hair falling into his eye. Dan wanted to push it back into place, but managed to refrain themself.

“I’ve got it. Just give me the ball,” Lester replied, holding out his free hand for the bauble. Dan sighed and handed over the orb, their stomach flipping when their fingers brushed for a moment.

Lester stuck his tongue out in focus as he tried to cut open the hand held ball, proving that it was harder than it looked. Suddenly, Lester swore as he dropped the ball into Dan’s lap by accident. Dan himself swore, jumping to his feet. Dan immediately felt a horrific burning sensation in his crotch area.

“Holy fuck that burns! What the hell, Lester?” they swore, sending daggers in Lester’s direction. He was biting his lip, blushing profusely, eyes apologetic.

Professor Ansari sighed, marching up the aisle to the two struggling teenagers. “Of course it's you two, the literal Head Boys. Go on up to the infirmary. Phil, you can escort him,” she said, winking on the last part. Dan blanched internally; why did she wink? Escort?

Dan and Lester swiftly left the classroom together in silence. “Er, sorry about dropping that on you. I swear I wasn't trying to boil your… parts,” Phil stated after a few seconds of silently walking down the hallway together. Dan’s hands were strategically placed in front of their lap while their cheeks were painted a bright scarlet.

“Lester, don't say it like that!” they seethed, voice high pitched and smiling nonetheless. Phil shrugged, raising his arms slightly.

“Well, I wasn't!” he shot back defensively, grinning just as much as Dan. He was also blushing just as much.

Dan sighed exaggeratedly, shaking their head. “Only you would manage to do that, Lester,” they said, shaking their head still.

Lester groaned, slapping their arm. “Says the one who dropped everything during Botany that one time with the bugs!” Lester retaliated.

“Yeah, when I was eleven!”

“Still…”

Dan rolled their eyes, turning around a corner, Lester just behind. “I seriously am sorry about that, by the way,” Phil added, motioning towards Dan’s crotch.

“Stop gesturing to my fucking penis, Philip Lester!” they exclaimed, maybe a bit too loud for the topic of conversation. They blushed again at the thought of someone listening. What would it sound like out of context?

Dan moved one of their hands from in front of their modesty to fix a loose curl on their forehead. “Er, I like your piercing, by the way,” they commented, eyeing Lester sideways. If they weren't mistaken, Dan could have sworn Lester wss blushing.

He coughed. “Th-thanks. I like your new tattoo,” he replied. Dan had in fact gotten a few tattoos over the summer (without their mum’s permission of course). The one in which Lester was referring to was one on their wrist shaped like two little angel wings surrounding the name Mark. They got it for their dad, Mark, who died when they were 10.

“I like your tattoos, too. The cactus ones.” Dan continued, jutting their chin towards Lester’s hands. “You got them last year, though, didn't you?”

Lester nodded, looking at his splayed hands in front of him as he walked. “Thanks. I got them because I really like—”

“Plants. I know. You make it kinda obvious in Botany,” Dan interrupted. Lester nodded again, his cheeks turning into tomatoes.

They fell into an awkward silence for the rest of the way to the hospital wing, which was located basically on the other side of the school and up three flights of stairs. Dan had the strange feeling that Professor Ansari made Lester escort them for that reason. Most of the time, teachers let the students go on their own.

They reached the door to the infirmary and Lester said his goodbyes, his face still red as a radish, and turned on his heels to head back down to the class. Dan watched him go for maybe a little longer than necessary before knocking on the door to the hospital.

—

Phil wasn't usually one to complain about having an excuse to stay up late, wandering the halls of the school. But having to spend it all with Howell? That was something he would complain about.

In fact, he did just that all during dinner to his friends. Thomas insisted that it would be fine while Chris and PJ agreed that it would be hell. Dodie and Nikita shared knowing looks with each other but said nothing.

Phil was back upstairs in his room, putting on his badge over his pajama t-shirt when he heard the door unlock and then squeak open. Howell entered the room and went over to his own chest of drawers grabbing some pj’s and heading into the toilet. He shuffled around for a few moments before reappearing wearing grey jogging bottoms which hung low on his hips, a black t-shirt with white writing saying, “SHUT UP WOMAN GET ON MY HORSE” and a black choker. Phil smirked at Dan's shirt choice and watched him make his way over to the chest of drawers to pin his badge on his own shirt.

His short fingernails were painted neatly with sparkly dark purple nail varnish which caught in the fluorescent lighting of their bedroom. “Nice choker,” Phil commented quietly, slipping on his trainers. He wondered silently why Dan always seemed to dress with little “traditionally feminine” accessories.

Dan chuckled dryly, his cheeks pinkening and replied, “Nice pajamas.” He gestured to Phil’s outfit, which consisted of Cookie Monster pajama bottoms and a purple and blue t-shirt, his HB badge sitting on his left peck.

“You ready to head down?” he asked once he had his shoes on. Howell slipped on his Converses and looked up, bobbing his head up and down.

They walked down the stairs and to the entrance hall in silence. Professor Milan, who taught Astronomy, was standing there waiting for them. “Ah, here you are,” she said cheerily, smiling sweetly at the two. She explained to them what their route was to be and that they were to go around it five times until they could go to bed.

“Enjoy your night, boys!” she chimed, turning to leave. Phil noticed Howell stiffen slightly for a moment, but recovered shortly afterwards. That was odd.

As they strolled inaudibly around the castle, Phil felt their hands brush against each other a few times, feeling his heart skip a beat or two. Phil half wondered whether Howell was doing this on purpose, as if he knew about Phil’s crush.

He had been crushing hard on Dan Howell since their second year. He didn't particularly know where it came from, but one day he had a sudden realisation in the middle of dinner when he caught himself staring at Howell. At the time, he thought nothing of it. He had known he was bisexual for years.

But after a while, Phil realised that his feelings for Howell or other boys were different from the feelings he got from girls. It was in the middle of his summer break between third and fourth year that he came to the conclusion that he was biromantic, but sexually attracted to boys. And especially sexually attracted to Dan Howell.

As they neared the end of their fifth round, Phil’s palm accidentally swung into Dan’s and they jumped apart, Phil’s breathing erratically. His cheeks burned and changed to a scarlet hue to contrast greatly with his snowy white skin.

They stayed at the same distance on the way back up the stairs, only the sounds of their footsteps and their breathing filling the buzzing silence. Phil nearly stumbled on the steps a few times, his cheeks blooming roses. Howell never failed to laugh.

Phil’s heart and breathing rates were becoming increasingly more intermittent the closer he got to their room. By the time he got into bed, it was as if he had sprinted all the way up, as opposed to walking sedately. His palms were sweaty and shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself down, getting into bed slowly. It wasn't working.

As Phil had a silent and lengthy panic attack, he was sure that Howell was fast asleep already. He didn't make any noise but for his breathing, so Phil assumed that he had fallen asleep.

But on the contrary. Dan was listening to Lester’s obvious panic attack. It was impossible to sleep listening to the shuddering breaths and the bed’s creaking from the shaking. They felt as if their heart were being slowly torn in half the entire time, wishing they could just get into Lester’s bed and try to comfort him. It was breaking their heart.

Oh, to be young and in love with your enemy.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: cancer mentions

Howell was staring at Phil. He could feel it. He could feel his roommate’s eyes boring into the back of his head from the other side of the room. Phil was trying to eat his breakfast, listening to Dodie and Chris talking about Star Wars. His neck itched from the sensation of being stared at for a long time, sending goosebumps through his body as if he were cold. Phil turned around in his seat and made eye contact with the brown eyed boy, feeling his cheeks dapple with pink as a result. He cleared his throat and turned to face the table again.

“Is Howell staring at you?” PJ asked, looking across the room, just over Phil’s shoulder. He shrugged, feeling his face continue to blush.

Chris looked up as well, looking in the direction that PJ was viewing. “Crap, he is!” Phil’s face, if that was even possible, grew even redder, as if it had been burnt by the sun. “Phil, are you blushing?” Chris asked, turning to Phil with suspicious eyes.

He shook his head, trying to look as indifferent to Howell’s staring as possible. He knew he was failing. “Er, no. I’m just–cold. It's freezing in here,” he replied insistently, rubbing his hands together to emphasise how “cold” he was.

His friends exchanged knowing looks and PJ, grinning like a child, leaned closer to Phil. “Does wittle Philly have a crush? Does he like having Mr. Howell staring at him?” he cooed.

Phil slapped PJ’s arm, scowling. “I don't like him like that! Or at all, really,” he snapped, his face still pink. It was like his body wanted them to know the truth. “Did you guys see the new episode of Riverdale on Thursday?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.

After breakfast, Phil, Thomas and PJ said goodbye to the others and started out of the cafeteria. Phil caught Dan’s eye as he passed and Phil forced himself to look away, blushing profusely. He pushed the doors open, holding them open for the other two boys and then they started on their way to Earthbending. Other students were making their way towards class as well.

The trio of boys reached their Earthbending class a few minutes later, huffing slightly from the three flights of stairs they had to begrudgingly ascend. “I,” PJ paused to catch his breath, “hate those stairs.” He wheezed, clutching a cramp in his side. Phil and Thomas nodded in agreement.

They sat down in their usual spot in the second row, just behind a girl named Megan who was waiting for her friend Jason. Phil pulled out his stuff and laid it out on the desk, nearly elbowing Thomas in the face in the process. More students began filing into their own seats, all talking and giggling together.

“I still haven't told you, Phil. I love your little lip ring thing going on,” Thomas said brightly, poking the metal in Phil’s lower lip. He blushed, not very good at taking compliments.

PJ bobbed his head adding, “Yeah, me too. When you told me you were considering it, I wasn't sure, but I think it suits you.”

Phil put his face in his hands, shaking his head. “You guys are making me blush, stop it,” he whined into his palms, face still burning.

Thomas giggled, patting his back. “I will never stop complimenting you until the day I die,” he said triumphantly. Phil could practically hear him tilting his chin up proudly. He was too much of an actor sometimes.

Phil groaned, sitting up and facing his friend. “Fine, then I guess I’ll just have to kill you so that you stop,” he deadpanned, turning to the front as their teacher, Professor Goldbloom, marched in.

“Morning, class. I hope you all enjoyed your weekends and did all your homework,” their professor stated, placing his briefcase on top of the desk with a soft thump. The class groaned audibly. “Oh, stop groaning. It was only 16 pages,” he snapped, scowling at the class with his big bushy eyebrows.

He started his usual drawled explanation of that day’s lesson, either indifferent or oblivious to the student's continued protests. They were to be continuing their unit on manipulating the vines on plants, which Phil quite enjoyed. It was much better than their last unit about changing types of trees into other types of trees. It was both incredibly boring and difficult and Phil lost a good few days trying to write a six page essay on the correct way to do so.

“Now that I’ve explained, who would like to pass out the pots? Anyone?” Professor Goldbloom asked, looking between the pupils. He eventually pointed at Phil with his callused, chubby forefinger.

Sighing, Phil scooted back in his seat and strolled over to the desk holding the pots of dirt and mini bonsais. He delicately lifted up one of the trays carrying half a dozen of the trees and carried it waywardly over to the front few seats. He finished passing these out and went to fetch the next 6.

A few minutes later, he settled back into his chair between PJ and Thomas, fixing his fringe. Professor Goldbloom looked through every row to see that everyone had a tree, hmphing finitely once he saw that everyone did in fact have a bonsai tree.

“Splendid,” he boomed, twirling his moustache between two fingers, “Let us begin our work. There will be no need for conversation.” The class collectively protested silently, eyeing each other knowingly.

The only sounds coming from the feverishly working class was the soft rustling of the bonsais’ leaves and the shuffling of seats. Phil narrowed his eyes at the plant, holding out one of his cactus-decorated hands in front of the aesthetic plant. He silently urged it to work, hoping that vines would begin to crawl their way up the bark of the stem.

Others were at varying levels of success. PJ was beginning to see tiny, thread like pieces popping up, lazily scooting around the tree. They were easily broken when he blinked at them.

Meanwhile, Thomas, who was much more gifted in the geological area of Earthbending, was struggling a fair bit. He had his lip frustratedly stuck between his lips as he focused intently on creating vines, but to no avail.

Phil took a deep breath again and pushed through his body, as though he was trying to water the plant with his powers. He felt the usual tickly sensation of his powers on his fingertips and then, popping out of the ground, vines appeared. They weaved their way slowly up the tree, wrapping around individual twigs and branches, until they couldn't grow anymore. Phil put even more focus in, pushing more energy into his hands until he saw little flowers poking out of the vines. Peeking beneath the blossoms were tiny, sharp thorns, ready and waiting for some unknowing individual to prick themselves.

Deciding he had done enough, Phil let out a heavy sigh, suddenly exhausted from the excess power he used. “Holy shit! That’s amazing, Phil!” PJ exclaimed, staring wide eyed at the creation sitting on Phil's desk. Other students started coming over to see as well, all muttering similar compliments which made Phil’s cheeks blossom crimson like some of his flowers.

“I very much doubt it's that impressive, you buffoons. Let me see,” Professor Goldbloom insisted, pushing through the crowd. The teens dispersed back to their seats, looking determined to get similar results to Phil. Professor Goldbloom steadied his glasses on his nose, narrowing his beady green eyes. “Ah, yes. Very good, son. I see you have been paying attention to my lectures,” he commented, inspecting the different flowers.

He pricked his thumb on one of the tricky little thorns, jumping back.“Ah, a thorn! Fantastic use of defense, Mister, uh…” He looked inquisitively at Phil, pointing in the air as he struggled to remember Phil’s name. It wasn't as if Phil had literally been in his class for seven years now.

“Lester, sir.”

Professor Goldbloom swooped an apathetic hand in Phil’s direction, narrowly missing hitting his face. “Yes, I knew that,” he insisted, “Good job, Mr. Licer.”

“Lester.”

“Didn't I say that?” Professor Goldbloom gave Phil’s plant another once-over and turned back to his desk, sucking on the blood dripping from the pad of his chubby thumb.

Phil turned towards his friends again. “Is it just me or is he the most confusing teacher we have?” he asked, earning noises of agreement from his friends. “I swear he doesn't know anyone’s name.”

—

A week later, Phil was sitting in his usual spot near the back of the History of the Elements classroom. Professor Carson was talking about a battle between two Fire people that started the Great London Fire. As Phil looked around the room, he felt uneasy. Howell was missing. Class had started almost 20 minutes ago and still no sign of the lanky boy and his messy brown mop.

Phil tried to listen to his teacher and take notes, but his mind was elsewhere in another universe. It was wherever Howell had gotten off to. He hadn't skipped a lesson since their fifth year when Phil accidentally called him a name when he knocked over a jar of pencils on Phil’s head. In his defence, some of those pencils really hurt.

Nonetheless, Dan only avoided lessons because he was upset. He was never sick and had only lost his voice (for the most blissful two days of Phil’s life) back when they were 12. Phil's stomach tied itself in an intricate, perturbed knot as he thought of what could have made Dan upset enough to miss a class. He hadn't done that it two years.

Thankfully, Phil didn't have to dwell much longer in his intrusive, terrified thoughts because the door to the classroom opened another five minutes later. Howell was standing rather uncomfortably in the doorway, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than right in that room.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” he mumbled, walking into the room, adjusting his bag on his shoulders. His keychains jingled as he walked. Phil was still so in his own head, wondering where Howell had been, that he didn't notice when he came right up to his desk.

He startled slightly, looking up at the tall boy standing in front of his desk. Phil gave him a curious, bewildered look, tilting his head to the left. “Er, all the other seats are taken,” he stated, dropping his bag on top of the desk next to him. Phil shrugged, scooting over a litte to give him some more room.

Howell sat down in the chair next to him just as Professor Carson started back on the lesson. He carefully unpacked his stuff, putting it out on the desk. Phil watched, slightly hypnotised by the boy’s sparkly black nail varnish. The tiny bits of glitter caught in the overhead lighting, twinkling like stars being held in Howell’s hands.

Phil’s eyes wandered up to Howell’s eyes, rather surprised to find them bloodshot and glassy. He was even more shocked when he noticed distinct tear tracks on the boy’s pale cheeks. Phil felt his heart jump, aching terribly in his chest. Phil was far too worried about Howell to notice what the lesson was on anymore.

—

★Flashback to before History of the Elements★

Dan had mail. They had mail. But why? They were sitting at their usual table with their friends when a tiny 1st year girl stumbled up to their table, her face bright pink. Her soft blue eyes darted to the badge on his chest.

Trying to make the girl feel less terrified of them, they flashed her a toothy grin. “I-I was t-told to tell you th-that y-you have m-mail in the school p-post office,” she stammered, looking distinctly like a deer caught in headlights.

Dan nodded understandingly, maintaining their smile. “Thank you, dear,” they chimed, “I like your hair, by the way.” Her pretty dirty blonde hair was tied back into two perfect french braids. She looked like she could be a cheerleader. She positively squeaked.

Without another word, the tiny 11 year old scampered away, leaving Dan and their friends perplexed. “I suppose I should go and check that before class starts,” they muttered, taking another mouthful of Lucky Charms and standing up. They waved goodbye to their friends, slinging their glittery black backpack over their shoulders and marched confidently out of the hall.

They climbed down the several staircases leading to the school’s basement, where they had the Potions classrooms, the kitchens and the school’s postal department. It wasn't often that Dan got mail, so they didn't go there very often. 

It was a stuffy, ill-lit room crowded with hundreds of letters and parcels. There was one of those generic trolleys as well, filled halfway with envelopes covered in stamps. Dan knocked once they entered, looking around the cramped room for some sort of worker.

After a moment, they were greeted by the shrill voice of an old woman who came shuffling around the side of one of shelves. She gave him a sweet, mostly toothless, grin, her eyes twinkling. “Hello, young man. May I help you?” she asked, her voice frail and shaky.

Dan nodded, ignoring the name she gave them. It was just something they were used to at this point, being misgendered. “I was told by a rather fearful looking first year that I got mail? I’m Daniel Howell,” they clarified, looking around the room more.

The old woman nodded gleefully. “Ah, yes! Yes, you did! The postman said it was urgent, too,” she replied, traipsing over to the overcrowded desk. She shoved a few letters and envelopes aside, looking around for the letter. After a short scuffle, she found what she was looking for, humming happily. “Here you are, dear!” she exclaimed, holding out a shaky hand which gripped the coffee coloured envelope.

Dan thanked the ancient woman and carried the latter back up the stairs. Their heart thrummed nervously in their chest: She said it was 'urgent’. What could that possibly mean?

They searched around for an empty classroom on the first floor and slipped inside, careful not to let the door slam. They heard the first period bell go off while they were coming up the stairs. Pulling out their room keys, Dan tore open the envelope, pulling the letter out of it and tossing the sleeve in a bin. They unfolded the letter and began reading.

Daniel,

I do hate having to put this in a letter. It doesn't feel right. I feel as though I should be telling you this in person, but I don't feel I can wait until the Christmas holidays. I can't keep it from you for so long. This letter will have to do.

I don't know how else to say this, but I have cancer. Remember how I was saying that I felt a weird tooth ache a while back? Well that area started to have bump in it. I finally went to see my doctor about it and we had a scan. It showed a tumour in my sinus, so I got it tested a few days later. It came up positive. Then they did some more scans and they found spotting in my lungs.

They said it's a sarcoma cancer, which means it forms from tissue. In my case, it’s soft tissue. It isn't curable, though. But the doctor said that it is treatable. I don't know what the difference is but she seemed to think it was a good thing. I’m not so sure.

I hope your classes are going well. I can't wait to see you at Christmas. I miss you, darling.

Lots of love,

Mum

Dan folded up the letter, their hands shaking like mad. They couldn't breathe. No matter how hard they tried to gasp for air, nothing seemed to enter their lungs. They could feel their face soaking in warm tears, their body shaking and wracked with sudden sobs. They re-read the letter another three times, as if they would find that it was a joke or that they had read it wrong. But they hadn't.

Cancer had never been something that came up much in their family. Dan’s grandmother died of lung cancer when they were young, but otherwise, their life had been pretty unaffected by the disease. Death, though. That was something they were well used to.

But Dan wasn't prepared for either. They didn't want their mother to die of some shitty disease. She was supposed to die peacefully when they had children and a family of their own, perhaps in her sleep, completely surrounded by her loving family. She wasn't supposed to be diagnosed with fucking cancer when she was only 46 years old.

Dan felt as though they might throw up. Or punch something. Or scream. Or all of the above. Every part of their body felt like it had been dipped in fire, yet also a bucket of ice, making them shake all over. They ran their hands through their hair, yanking on the curls as if it would make it all stop. As if causing some pain would make their internal, emotional pain stop.

They had been crying for nearly fifteen minutes before they started to calm down. Their breathing was steadying somewhat and their heart rate, while still faster than a marathon runner, was starting to slow down. The shaking subsided and they no longer felt like they were on fire.

Sniffling and choking back more tears, Dan looked at the time on their wristwatch. They were already 20 minutes late for class. Wiping their nose on the sleeve of their button down, Dan opened the door to the classroom again.

They dragged their feet all the way up the stairs towards the History of the Elements class. None of their friends were in their class anymore, seeing as the classes got split now. They had it with Phil, however.

Taking a last calming breath, Dan pushed the door to Professor Carson’s room open. Heads turned to see who it was, including Lester who turned so fast Dan wouldn't be surprised if he gave himself whiplash.

“Sorry I’m late professor,” he mumbled, stepping inside the classroom. There weren't any other seats left except one next to Lester and another next to a boy Dan sometimes talked to. But something was telling them to go and sit with Lester today. Their heart seemed to take comfort in his proximity.

Lester looked dazed as they made their way over to his desk. When Dan arrived at his desk, standing in front of him, Lester looked up at him with bewildered eyes. “Er, all the other seats were taken,” they blurted, trying to keep from imploding.

Dan put their bag on the desk and sat down next to Lester. Their heart hammered in their ears as they started to take out their stuff and lay it out on the desk. They could feel a pair of bright blue eyes staring at them, making their neck prickle, but tried to ignore it.

Wiping a loose tear from their cheek, Dan tried to focus their attention on the board again. It was proving impossible, however, as disturbing thoughts of death floated through their mind.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Mentions of cancer throughout, an anxiety attack, general angst

That night, Dan and Phil had patrolling duty again. Dan was still in shock after getting the news, jumping at most sounds and spending the majority of the day trying to keep themself from breaking down in tears. 

After giving up on homework due to their mind refusing to stay on track, Dan was getting ready for patrolling. They were dressed in a pair of navy blue plaid pajama bottoms and a Muse t-shirt, fiddling now with the badge on their chest. 

Lester, meanwhile, was already changed into a pair of Animal muppet trousers and a white Totoro t-shirt, his HB badge shining prominently in the light of their bedroom. The Great Gatsby was propped open on his chest, his glasses on the brim of his nose. Dan had to admit that they wished Phil wore them more often. They were pretty fucking sexy. 

Dan checked the time on their watch. It was already 9:56 and they were both due downstairs in four minutes. And it took about seven minutes to get down the stairs. “Lester, we need to go,” they insisted, pulling on one of their white trainers, hopping up and down. 

Lester looked up from his book and then at the clock on his bedside. He seemed to mentally curse and jumped out of bed, dog-earing a page in his book and prying on a shoe. “Do you think they’ll make us not be Head Boys anymore if we’re late?” Lester asked, his eyes full of worry. 

Dan snorted, shaking their head. “No, Lester. I don't think that they’ll take away our badges for being three minutes late. Now, let’s go,” they replied, grabbing a key and opening the door. They held the door for Lester and then followed him down the hall. 

They walked in silence, side by side. Their only company besides each other was the soft sound of their footsteps and the distant tick of a clock. They reached the bottom of the stairs finally a few minutes later, only two minutes late for their meeting with Professor Smith, the Waterbending teacher. 

“Hello, boys. Glad of you to make it.” Dan stiffened at the name but pushed it to the back of their mind. Instead, they simply waved at the well meaning professor. “You’re taking your usual routes tonight, you two. Five laps,” he explained as the two nodded understandingly. 

Professor Smith sighed loudly and stated, “Well, I best be off. Enjoy, but don't be too loud.” Dan turned to raise their eyebrows at Lester, but he simply shrugged his shoulders. They watched the man make his way back up the steps before they started on their usual route. 

As they walked silently along the corridors, Dan’s meddlesome thoughts reappeared, making their chest tighten. They clenched their hands into tight fists by their sides, continuing to walk as if they weren't reliving the entirety of the letter from their mother. 

It was incurable, yet treatable. Dan had to look that up on their computer after class and it did nothing to appease their thoughts. It basically just meant that the cancer had spread too far from the origin to be properly destroyed or was in too tricky of an area to operate, but it was able to keep at bay somewhat. Whoopie. Their mother said that it started in her sinuses, but it had now spread to her lungs. They remembered her having some troubles breathing in the summer, but they didn't think it would actually be something that serious. 

As their nails broke crescents into their palms and their nails felt wet with blood, Dan forced themself to stop making a fist. Instead, experimentally, they tried brushing Lester’s hand to see what would happen. They obviously couldn't hold his hand, but brushing it might do something. 

As they turned a corner, Dan situated their hand just slightly to the left of their body so that Lester’s arm bounced into it. Dan’s stomach did a somersault and their heart skipped, as if doing a double act in the olympics. Lester, meanwhile, jumped about a mile in the air, a soft squeak tumbling out of their mouth. 

But he didn't exactly protest it. As soon as the shock seemed to overcome him, his breathing slowed to normal again and they continued on walking. 

It wasn't enough for Dan. The single split second of contact wasn't enough to calm Dan’s irrational and erratic thoughts. So they tried it again. This time, as they were going up a short flight of stairs, Dan bumped their arms together. Lester startled again and in the better lighting on the stairs, Dan noticed he was blushing. 

Dan did this again another two times before Lester seemed to have enough. He didn't say anything, but when Dan did it a third time as they turned yet another corner, Lester jumped sideways. Instead of returning to walking right next to them, he stayed a good foot away. 

They stayed like this for the rest of the night. 

—

Dan was standing near the back of the Waterbending classroom alongside Nathan and Zoe. They were supposed to be working on putting out fires, but really only Dan was paying attention. Zoe and Nathan were chattering away about a party that some people were holding in their room later that week that Dan really didn't want to go to. They hated parties and socialising. 

Ignoring the conversation, Dan focused in on the small festering flame that was sitting inside a small hearth. They focused on the sparks popping up and the blaze licking at the logs that kept them alive. Taking a deep breath, Dan pushed the energy through their body and out of their hands. A soft jet stream came out of their hand, cascading around the hearth fire. It dampened the fire for a few seconds until the fire no longer flickered inside the hearth. Steam floated up from the logs. 

“Nice job, Dan!” Zoe exclaimed, pausing her conversation to pat them on the back with her neatly manicured hand. 

Dan shrugged; it wasn't that hard, all one had to do was focus on the fire in the hearth and the energy in their body and create water. It would also be easier if they stopped their conversation for a few minutes to actually work. 

Dan stepped aside for their friends to make an attempt at putting out the fire that reappeared in the hearth shortly after Dan had put it out. Zoe stepped forth, biting her lip and narrowing her eyes. She held out a hand for a few seconds in front of the blaze and then water sprung from her hand, showering the fire. The fire was put out in less than three seconds. 

Nathan and Dan patted her back in congratulations and then Nathan stepped up to the hearth. He stood with his feet shoulder width apart, holding out his arm and staring intently at the fire that reformed like a phoenix. After a few seconds again, the fire was put out with his own water. 

Almost as soon as Nathan had finished, the bell rang and the trio grabbed their bags to head to their next class. Halfway towards English, the same little first year girl bounded up to Dan, this time accompanied by a boy with messy ginger hair. 

“H-hi, Dan! W-we were told that y-you have m-mail again!” the girl chimed, looking up at them like they were some sort of spectacle. 

Dan’s heart dropped. A thought popped into their head that gnawed harshly at them. She’s dead. She died. They tried to smile at the two children, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Oh, thanks,” they replied. “Wait, I don't know your names.” 

“I’m Molly and this is Elliot,” she replied, biting her pale lips. Dan nodded and thanked the two children before saying goodbye to their friends. They had to find out if their mum was okay or not. 

Their heart hammered, pulsating in their ears as they pushed through the crowd, trying to get to the post office. They stumbled down the steps two at a time and nearly ran past the room. They knocked on the open door, trying to calm their breathing and heartbeat. 

The same ancient lady appeared around the corner, her thick pink jumper looking cozy on her frail, hunched body. “Mr. Daniel! You have a letter again,” she chimed, shuffling slowly over to her desk. She put her glasses on, squinting to find the letter in the pile of papers and envelopes. “Ah, there we are! Here you go, sweetie.” She made her way over towards Dan, holding out the letter to them. 

Dan thanked the old woman again and took the letter in shaking hands. They made their way towards the empty classroom again just as the bell rang for the class to start, tearing it apart in a hurry. 

Dear Dan,

It's your Uncle Harry. I’m sorry to have to inform you but your mum has had to be hospitalised for a few days. She was having trouble breathing and the doctors want to monitor her for a few days. She will have to have a breathing mask, now. But she's okay besides that. Don't worry. I’m sure she'll be around at Christmas time. I look forward to seeing you then, too. 

Love,

Uncle Harry

Dan took a deep, shuddering breath. She was still alive. That was the good thing. But now she was in a hospital. 

Was the air in this room always so scarce? 

Dan quaked all over as they tried to put the letter back in its envelope. There was a faint ringing in their ears suddenly, getting increasingly louder as the seconds ticked by. 

Dan couldn't afford to be late for their lesson again, so they shoved the envelope in their bag and hurried out of the classroom. They felt numb all over, but they would have to pretend they were a fully functioning person. At least for the rest of the day. Then they could curl up in a ball and neglect their dinner. 

Later that evening, Phil noticed that Howell looked rather stiff. He was jumpy and held himself like an uncomfortable statue. He was sitting up in bed after dinner, his hands placed primly in his lap while he stared ahead, brown eyes glassy like mud frozen over in winter. 

Phil longed to help him, to reach out, to hold him. He wished he could do something to help. He didn't look alive. He was frozen, petrified, as if his body had given up on moving. He didn't even look like he was breathing very much. If it weren't for the occasional sighs or his slow blinks, Phil might have thought he had died. He was just so still. 

Phil wanted to help him, but he just didn't know how to do that. 

—

Dan and Troye were sitting side by side in the library a few days later. Dan was still in their own head for the most part, their mind flashing with thoughts of death and cancer and general depression. Troye was flipping through an old book about music, meanwhile Dan was 'reading’ To Kill A Mockingbird. It was one of their favourites, but they just couldn't bring theirself to pay any attention. 

“You know who I saw the other day on the field?” Troye asked suddenly, looking up from his book for a moment. Dan grunted, keeping their eyes on the book. “Phil Lester. He was on the field growing a fucking bush covered in roses. It was pretty cool, actually,” he said. At the mention of Lester, Dan felt their cheeks burn. 

“You’re blushing, you know,” Troye pointed out, reopening his book. “Why are you blushing? It's just Lester.” Dan shrugged, their cheeks growing even more scarlet. “Wait, do you like him? As in, like like him?” 

Dan groaned, putting their head on the desk. Face still on their book, Dan nodded. “Maybe…” they admitted, sitting up properly again. 

Troye double-takes. “Wait, seriously?” 

Dan nodded slowly, their heart beating faster in their chest cavity. “Since like 5th year, yeah,” they whispered, hoping that Troye wouldn't think they were insane. 

“I’m not that surprised, to be honest,” Troye replied, turning a page in his book. “I’ve seen you stare at him a few times,” he added. 

Dan didn't know how to react. If Troye already knew that Dan liked Lester, what if other people knew? What if Lester knew? Dan wasn't sure they liked knowing that Troye already noticed, but they were glad he didn't take it badly. 

—

Dan was feeling very bitter that day. They hadn't managed to get to sleep after doing the night rounds with Bree, the Depute Head Girl, and they seemed to be mad at everyone. They rolled their eyes at everything that anyone said and scoffed a few times at their teachers, earning some looks from students and teachers alike. 

Dan was feeling particularly foul during Defence and Combat that day when they had to work with Lester again. As much as they were secretly enjoying being with Lester during class, even Lester wasn't safe from Dan’s mood. 

That day, Professor Ansari had them using Stinging Capsules. They were small hand held packets of mauve that created a sharp stinging sensation when they came into contact with their victims. Dan and Lester were paired up, standing in front of each other with three feet between them. Dan’s hand was hanging lazily at their side, curled slightly to grip the packet. Lester was standing in a similar stature, his blue eyes narrowed. 

Lester cracked his neck to side in what he hoped was an intimidating fashion, his eyes still lowered at his roommate. They were trying to surprise the other to test their reflexes so that they could either dodge the attack or use a reflective spell that would shoot the attack in the other person’s direction. Dan wanted to use the reflective spell on Lester, while Lester just wanted to dodge it. 

Around the room, people were squeaking and swearing as they were zapped. Suddenly, Lester tossed the tiny packet their way. Just in time, Dan slapped his hand in the air, causing the sting to ricochet off of his body and zing into Lester. 

“Fuck!” Lester swore, trying to jump out of the way but instead succeeding in jumping right into it. “Screw you,” Lester mumbled, crossing his arms on his chest and scowling. 

Dan scoffed. “You look like a fucking toddler when you do that,” they snapped, rolling their eyes. At that, Lester pouted, making himself look even more like a child. “You’re making yourself look even more like a child,” they added, rolling their eyes. 

Lester scowled and turned to a girl standing with one of the packets. “Can I see that?” he asked, grabbing it from her before she could reply. He gave Dan another scowl and then tossed the packet at them. It hit them square in the stomach, making them double over. 

“Fuck you!” they shrieked, earning a few looks from people in the class. They launched the stinging capsule at Lester, hitting him in the face. He screamed. 

“Hey! That's not fair! That hit my face, asshole!” he retorted, grabbing another packet from the box at the front. He threw it in Dan’s direction, only to be hit with it a moment later as Dan rebounded it. Suddenly both teens lunged for the box and grabbed handfuls of the purplish pastilles, getting into a throwing match filled with yelps and swears. 

“Ow! Fuck you!”

“Hey! Stop it!”

“That hurt, twat!”

“What the hell?”

“Fucking fuck!”

This went on for another minute before both felt arms pulling them back from each other, both protesting greatly and swearing. Dan felt Aubrey pulling them back while Phil felt the arms of Professor Ansari dragging him back. Dan shook off Aubrey and grabbed their bag, storming out of the classroom and slamming the door shut so hard it shook in its frame. Phil stepped out of Professor Ansari’s arms and dropped into his seat, scowling at nothing in particular, his heart beating quickly from the adrenaline rush of the argument/battle. Dan meanwhile found an empty classroom, shoving their bag on the floor and sitting down against the wall. 

A few hours later, things were still rather tense between the two. When Phil arrived back at the room later that evening, Howell was in the midst of brushing his hair in their shared mirror. He looked up when Phil entered, rolling his eyes. 

“You know, you really were an ass today. During Defence,” Dan stated shortly, turning to face Lester properly. They didn't know why, but they felt at this moment that it was Lester’s fault for their argument. It was mainly their own for starting it, but Lester was the one who started the throwing of the stinging pellets. 

Lester scoffed. “As if you weren't,” he shot back, scowling at his roommate. 

“You’re the one that threw the stinging packet at me!” Dan snided, throwing their arms angrily in the air. 

“You kept on throwing the pods back!” Lester shouted back, knitting his eyebrows together, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I’m not a toddler.” 

Dan laughed cruelly, dramatically. “Oh, calm down. So I called you a toddler! So what?” he sneered, “What I should have called you is a freak!” That seemed to hit a nerve. 

As if a bucket of ice had been dropped on his head, the word coming from Howell’s mouth stung like one of the packets. It came like a bullet, making his heart ache as it tore through him. “Fuck you!” Phil spat, tears welling up in his eyes. He grabbed his keys and stormed to the door, slamming it loudly behind him. 

As soon as Lester stormed out, his eyes blatantly tearing up like overflowing dams, Dan felt their heart thud with guilt. That word must have some kind of edge to it, or else it wouldn't have cut the poor guy so harshly. What was meant to be an open ended impact turned into a cruel and bloody blow to him. 

Phil stormed all the way down the stairs to an empty classroom, heaving uncontrollably. He dropped onto the cool floor of the classroom and dissolved in a fit of hot tears. It felt as if the walls were closing in on him and he was reliving the times that word had been used against him. He curled himself tightly in a ball, trying to get his intermittent breathing under control. 

He could feel his heart pulsating in his temples, ringing in his ears. The world was both spinning and shaking at the same time, making his body feel weak and sick. It was overwhelming and intrusive, blocking out all rational thoughts. His hands quaked as much as the room seemed to and he felt like he could vomit. It hurt all over. It killed him.

All his thoughts were just as harsh as the words he had heard before. All of them sliced at his skin, breaking through and making him feel like he wasn't worth anything. They screamed and they kicked. He curled himself tighter and tighter on the floor, covering his ears desperately as if it might block out the harsh words that were only in his head. 

It was like this for another ten minutes. Shaking. Sobbing. Shuddering all over. Unable to breathe. Finally, after almost 15 minutes, he started to calm down a little. He still felt weak at the knees and like he might vomit, but he was no longer struggling to breathe nor sobbing uncontrollably. 

On shaky, tired legs, Phil got to a standing position. He stumbled all the way up the stairs, thankful he didn't run into anyone. When he reached their room again, he had to admit he was a little disappointed that Howell was already fast asleep, curled under the covers, his breathing even and quiet. He looked positively at peace. 

—Dan was still in their pissy mood the following week. It was nearing Halloween and they would normally be ecstatic, putting up spooky decor in their bedroom. But somehow, the festivities were no longer there. They were feeling so out of it that they neglected going to History of the Elements. They didn't want to see Lester, who they were still distantly mad at. 

Instead of going to class, Dan wandered the halls, giving the excuse of going to the toilet any time they passed anyone in the corridors. It wasn't that suspicious. 

Later that evening, Dan was in such a mood that they didn't sit with anyone at dinner. They marched straight to one of the empty, unused tables and dropped down without eating a thing. They simply stared at the salt and pepper shakers as if they too had done something wrong. 

They had expected one of their friends to come over and try to join them or at least come and ask what was wrong. What they didn't expect, however, was Lester to come over, his eyebrows knit together anxiously, their lower lip between their teeth. A distant part of Dan’s mind wondered if the piercing was cutting his gum or if it tasted too metallic. Did it taste similar to blood? Probably not. 

Dan scowled up at Lester in an almost accusatory gesture. “What do you want, Lester?” their asked, the venom in their voice cool and sharp. Like a knife. 

“Where were you today? During History. You weren't there today,” he blurted, his cheeks instantly dappling with pink. 

“I’m aware of that, funnily enough,” they drawled, their lips twitching slightly. “I didn't feel up for going to class. Happy, Lester?” It wasn't a lie. It wasn't. 

He rolled his eyes, groaning exasperatedly. “Fine then. Don't tell me. See if I care,” Lester snapped, turning on his heels and marching out of the lunch hall. Dan wanted to follow him, but held themself back. 

Neither of them slept very well that night. 

—

“Dan, what did you get for number six?” Louise asked Dan the next day while they were up in the library. She had finally talked Dan into going up to work on their History homework together, even if they were still in an explosive mood. 

Dan shrugged stiffly. “Why don't you just look it up in the book?” they said a little too harshly. In truth, Dan was too out of it to actually answer that part of their homework. Or any of it at that. 

Louise sighed. “I did. It isn't in the textbook,” she said calmly. Her calm tone made Dan want to snap their friend in half. 

“Well then look harder.” 

“It's. Not. There,” she seethed, clearly teetering on boiling point. Dan could even feel the air getting warmer, as if her anger was simmering just below the surface, ready to explode and cause catastrophic harm to everything, including herself. 

“Then why would it be a question?”

That got her. Louise slammed her book on the table, her eyes flashing with an anger so hot it would burn at the touch. “Because it fucking is. What the fuck is wrong with you lately?” she snapped, staring Dan down like she was ready to kill. Knowing her, she probably was. 

Dan rolled their eyes. “Nothing. Why don't you ask the textbook? Maybe it’ll tell you,” they remarked, their voice cold and distant. 

“Seriously, what the hell is going on? You’re acting like such a brat to everyone!” she seethed, her eyes flashing, “You’re snapping at everyone and you're making everyone miserable! Stop it now or you might just lose your friends, Daniel Howell!” 

Dan leaned back in their chair, eyeing their friend cooly. “Maybe I don't care! Maybe I don't want any friends that don't seem to give a fuck about me, huh? All you care about is stupid parties and shit. Not me!” They stood up so fast they felt their blood rush through them. 

Louise stood as well, scowling across the table. “You’re such a fucking infant. I have three year old cousins who behave better than you” she snapped. 

“Well, fine! If I’m such a fucking baby, why are you still my friend?” they shot back. 

“Maybe I’m not!” 

Dan huffed loudly. “Fine! See if I give a flying fuck! See you later, asshole!” And with that, Dan stormed out of the library, ignoring the looks they were shot from the librarian and other people dotted around the room. 

As soon as they flew out of the room at lightning speed, Phil Lester appeared around the corner, his face bright red. He had been listening the whole time.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter(be careful, this one has a lot): cancer mentions, character(not main)death, loosely implied suicidal thoughts, mentions of eating disorders.
> 
> If anyone wants me to put a short summary at the bottom, please don't hesitate to ask!

A few weeks later, it was almost Christmas. Dan still didn't sit with or talk to Louise, even a month later. They couldn't bring theirself to. They hardly even spoke a word to anyone at all.   
Little did anyone know, they had recently gotten another letter from their uncle. This time he was saying that she was getting worse. She was now in a wheelchair and had severe breathing problems. She was deteriorating by the day and Dan couldn't even be there for her. They couldn't even give her a hug or alleviate her pain in any way. They couldn't see her for another week and a half when they would be off for Christmas break and even that was too far for them. 

Occasionally, someone from their friend group would sit next to them during a meal, just sitting in silence or talking non stop, depending on the person. They didn't exactly expect to get an answer from Dan, but they still wanted to keep them company.

Mostly, though, Dan spent the majority of their time alone. They ate about two bites per meal and could slowly feel theirself losing weight. A lot. 

But they couldn't bring theirself to care. Their self care went out the window. Most nights, they stayed up until five either reading or on their phone. They had completed about 12 books since their argument with Louise a few weeks ago, fiendishly reading through them as if they were the only things giving them any life. 

Sometimes, oblivious—or apathetic—to Lester trying to sleep as well, they would pace the floor. They mumbled quietly under their breath, nearly falling over their own feet or loose articles all the way into the wee hours. Phil could hardly sleep from how often it had become. 

When they had to wander the hallways at night, it was stiff and silent. Dan no longer brushed their hand against Lester's and the few times it accidentally happened, Dan practically skipped three feet away. 

Phil was watching Howell’s slow self destruction from afar. He felt his heart ache when he noticed them take only a few bites of food before shoving it away, looking sick to his stomach. A few times, Howell had been late for lessons, returning with bloodshot eyes and tear tracks on pale cheeks. Phil longed to just pull Howell into his arms and make everything better. He wanted to know what it was that was keeping his roommate up at night, keeping him from eating, weakening and destroying him from the inside out. 

—

On the Thursday before they got off for break, Dan was a much brighter, cheerful person. They had no idea why, but they just felt good. It was an odd and unfamiliar feeling which they hadn't properly felt since getting the news of their mother’s cancer. It was as if the disease was not only sucking the life out of her it was sucking the life out of Dan. 

During breakfast, they sat with Troye and Rhea and actually ate their breakfast, which consisted of a bagel with cream cheese and some coffee. They talked to them about a musician they all liked, a grin on their face. They cracked a few jokes and laughed at a few of theirs, hitting their hand on the table and throwing their head back, grinning broadly. 

After lunch, Dan was sitting next to Lester for Defence and Combat. They were reading about a type of deadly plant and supposed to talk about it. Most of the time, Dan would have sat back with their arms crossed and let Lester do all the talking, but this time they engaged in a conversation with him. 

“Why does the plant have to look so pretty? It's literally fatal. Why can't it just be ugly and shriveled?” Dan was saying, using their hands a lot, animated out of their mind. Lester nodded along, his eyes focused on the boy in front of him like he meant the universe. 

He shrugged. “I suppose that’s the point. That's how it kills people. By looking pretty, it entices people to eat it. Plus, it bares resemblance to parsnips, apparently.” 

Howell scoffed but still looked fondly at the boy next to them. “Water Hemlock looks like parsnips? Look, I know you need glasses, but you're not that blind,” he commented, earning a light shove from Phil. Phil’s heart swelled as he looked at the boy in front of him. God he was so pretty. Especially when he was actually happy. 

“I dunno! That's what the textbook says!” he whined, pointing at the textbook pages. “Besides, they're still pretty yet they can kill a man–or a woman, I suppose.” 

Howell’s eyes glinted suddenly and they smirked. “So I guess you can say they have looks that could kill?” he remarked, grinning proudly. Phil slapped his arm, rolling his eyes. “They're literally drop dead gorgeous!” they added. Phil shoved his roommate harshly, though he laughed along with Howell. 

“Just like you, obviously,” he blurted, unable to help himself. Both parties turned bright red, looking away as Phil covered his mouth. All around the room people turned to see the two blushing teenagers, a few having heard Phil’s comment. “I mean… they are pretty flowers.” 

Dan cackled, nearly falling out of their seat at Lester's attempts to salvage his comment. Dan’s heart beat in their chest excitedly and they felt it practically singing. “So you’re saying that a fucking six foot three rat is a pretty flower?” they asked, trying to keep from turning into a tomato. They were failing. 

Lester facepalmed, their face still as red as ever. “No! Maybe? I guess! I dunno!” he babbled, shaking his head. 

Dan shook their head, smiling broadly at the boy next to them, blushing like a sinner in church. As Lester seemed to get some sort of hold on himself, he stopped facepalming and looked up. His fringe was in his eye slightly and Dan, unable to stop theirself, leaned forward in their seat a bit and brushed the hair back into place. As their finger brushed Lester's skin only for a split second, they felt a zing go through their body. Lester’s eyes widened and he felt himself imploding. Howell touched him. Granted, it was for a literal nanosecond, but still.   
The bell stopped their banter and flirting only a few minutes later, much to their dismay. “Have a happy holiday. In case we don't talk tonight or tomorrow,” Phil stated as he pushed his chair in. 

Howell chuckled. “I can't see why we wouldn't at this rate, but you too,” the brunette replied, holding the door open for him and going in the opposite direction from Phil. 

—

Sadly, Dan’s mood didn't last through the winter break. Seeing their mum for the first time in so long basically murdered them. She was even thinner than Dan was and they had only had five proper meals in the past month and a half. She was completely bald, having just finished chemo. She was supposed to have chemo for another month, but after another scan proved it had spread to her brain, they decided to stop. There was no point anymore. 

Dan hardly slept either. They were so terrified that she might need them in the night, that they refused to let themself fall asleep, instead staying up on their phone or staring at the wall. Or pacing. It was a habit. They had bitten their lips to the point of bleeding and chewed their nails all the way to the nub, tasting two different types of blood. 

On Boxing Day, five am, Dan woke up to their mother’s screaming. They nearly killed theirself sprinting down the hall to her room only to find that she had fallen on her way to the toilet. It took another ten minutes to help get her to the toilet and then another five for her to be finished in there. They had to help her get to bed, nearly falling at the threshold but for Dan’s strong arms there for support. 

Needless to say, when Dan returned to school two and a half weeks later, they looked close to death. They had deep, dark circles under their eyes and their skin was pale like a ghost. They looked about as thin as a skeleton. Their fingers constantly bled from biting them and their normally plump lips were swollen, bloody and bitten. 

When Phil saw Howell appear on the train, he wanted to pitch himself off the astronomy tower balcony. He also wanted to grab Howell and pull them into a hug, but he was afraid he might break a bone. 

Howell was sitting with their friends again, at least. Phil watched him nodding along stiffly and forcing a laugh at his friends’ jokes. They all gave Howell equally worried looks, no one quite sure why he looked like he might keel over and die at any second. They tried to get him to eat, but Howell refused, pushing away their forks full of food. Phil longed to just shout for them to shove it down his throat. At least then he would have something to eat. 

Dan didn't feel any better than they looked. They felt even closer to death than they looked. It seemed more inviting than having to suffer out their mother’s deterioration, knowing that they likely wouldn't see her again. They hoped they might at least see her at Easter, but they somehow doubted that was true. They dreaded the day they would be informed of her death, knowing it was inevitable. 

One day, during a rather dull period of Oceanography when they were simply reading about a type of underwater volcano, there was a knock at the door. Dan, who was sitting next to Zoe, shot their head up to see who it was. It was Professor Ansari. She gave Professor Mirth a soft, apologetic smile, fixing her pastel pink hijab. 

“Hi, sorry to interrupt, Andi, but may I please speak to Dan Howell?” 

Dan’s heart thudded to the floor in a pulsating, bloody mess. Or at least it felt like it. Professor Mirth shrugged and waved Dan off. They shot Zoe and Nathan a terrified look before stumbling out of the room after her. They told their friends about their mum a few days ago when at lunch after endless probing from them. 

Professor Ansari shut the door quietly behind them. She gave him a sympathetic look. “Would you like to come to my room for a spot of tea? That might be nice. It's freezing today.” Dan could tell she was stalling. But they nodded. 

They followed her through the corridors and down a flight of stairs, going around a corner to her classroom. “What do you take in your tea?” she asked, strolling over to a lavender tea pot at the back. 

“Just some milk and three sugars, please.” 

“Wow, that sure is a lot of sugar,” she joked, laughing uncomfortably. Needless to say, she added the three bits of sugar anyway. She handed them the navy mug. 

Taking a sip of her own, she sat down at the edge of her desk, motioning for Dan to do the same. They pulled one of the desks from the front closer and perched theirself on top. She put the cup down beside her. “The headmaster thought it would be best coming from me. I don't know why. She seems to think you’d rather hear it from me,” she stated, her tan cheeks blushing. 

Dan shrugged. “Probably because you’re my favourite teacher,” they said simply. 

She sat up a little straighter for a moment. “Well, I almost wish I wasn't at this time because it pains me to tell you this, but your mother passed away this morning.” 

To say Dan screamed would be the understatement of the year. Even though they knew it was coming, it was like being punched in the chest, stabbed in the back, shot in the head and strangled all at once. It was absolute agony and they didn't know what to do. So, like any rational human being would, they screamed bloody murder. They just about threw theirself on the floor, in a bony lump of pitiful, heartbreaking sobs. 

“Dan, Dan, I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry,” Professor Ansari cooed, crouching down next to them. “I know this must suck like absolute hell, Dan. Seriously,” she attempted over their cries. 

Dan sat up, weeping, hugging their legs to their chest and leaning against the table. “My mum died when I was 11. That was, sorry to say this, hell,” she explained, fidgeting with her pink head scarf nervously. “She was hit by a car and I was so overcome with emotions when I found out that I literally almost drowned someone. I cried an actual river that flooded my neighbour’s house. Their kid nearly drowned because of me and my literal tsunami of tears,” she went on. Dan wanted to vomit. They wanted to positively vomit right there. “Thankfully, she wasn't completely drowned because her dad found her, but my own father saw me cry it and I was sent here.” 

Dan didn't know why, but they chuckled. “That's quite the way to find out about your powers,” they said, wiping a few tears from their face. A puddle was forming on the floor underneath them, now that they thought about it. They were crying a fucking puddle. “I found out when some bullies in school pushed me in the ocean and I had never swam before. I could somehow breathe,” they added, “And then a couple of guys tried to attack me at a co-op and I turned all the ice in an icebox into water and made it all flood into the room.”

Professor Ansari chuckled. “That's quite the origin story as well. Looks like we both had a pretty crap discovery,” she attempted. “I’m so sorry about your mum, still. That must hurt a ton.” 

Dan shrugged, thanking her quietly. “My dad died before I started here, so I’m used to it,” they explained, standing up,“I… I think I should get to my class now. The bell’s about to ring and I want to get my stuff,” they half whispered, starting towards the door, “Thank you again, professor.” And then they were gone. 

—

Something was wrong. Even more wrong, at least. Howell hadn't spoken a word in almost three days straight and hadn't actually opened a book since then. Even during Defence and Combat, normally one of his favourites, Howell simply sat and stared into middle distance. Professor Ansari kept shooting Howell sad, sympathetic looks. 

Phil was in the middle of working alone in the library when he heard several familiar voices in the next aisle over. He ignored them. And then they said a name Phil recognised. Howell. 

“Yeah, Howell looks like a mess,” he heard one voice say. 

“That's an understatement. He looks about ready to die.” 

“Do you think he’s anorexic or something?” 

One of the voices laughed almost cruelly. “Probably. He looks like a fucking skeleton.” 

“A fucking ugly one, too.” 

That got him. Phil stood up sharply, knocking over his chair and stomped around the aisle. He came across Marcus, Joe and Caspar, all sitting together at a table. They looked up as he stormed down the aisle. 

Marcus leaned in his chair, smirking up at Phil as he just about vibrated with anger. “Wow, Lester. What's got you so worked up?” 

“Don't you dare talk about Dan like that. He has feelings and he doesn't deserve to have pricks like you talking about him behind his back,” he seethed, looking harshly between the three boys, a sense of warning and threat to his ice cold eyes. And then he stormed out of the library. 

—

The next day, Dan was late for Sexuality Studies, showing up almost half an hour late. Thomas was sitting with Rhea, leaving Phil to his own table. As if taking this as an invite, Dan marched right over to Phil and sat down next to him. Even though there were about ten other empty seats to choose from. 

“Why are you late?” Phil whispered, keeping his head towards the front, eyeing Dan sideways.

Dan shrugged. “Just was. Who cares?” Phil did. 

They were supposed to start talking about consent now, but most people were just getting into their own conversations. “Uh, I guess that consent is making sure that the person wants to… you know, do the do,” Phil tried, too in his own head to think straight (or normally. He could never think straight around Dan). 

Dan laughed dryly. “Do the do? Really? You mean fuck?” 

Phil blushed, nodding. “Yeah, I guess. But also, consent isn't just about saying yes.” Dan shook his head, making intense eye contact. 

“I guess not. It certainly comes into play, but the person has to really mean it. There's body language as well,” Dan explained. Phil nodded along, mesmerized by Dan’s brown eyes, even though they were surrounded by bloodshot whites. 

Nearby, Thomas and Rhea were having a conversation about star signs. “Yeah, I’m a July baby,” Rhea was saying, “I’m a Cancer.” At the mention of the word, Dan visibly stiffened, eyes wide. Phil sent him a worried look. 

Thomas nodded. “Oh, I can see that. You do act like a Cancer. Cancer’s are so much like you,” he replied. Dan’s breathing quickened beside Phil at the mention of cancer and he stood up, almost in a daze. All heads turned, eyes blinking at the curiosity that stood up. Even Phil looked up at them, eyes worried yet inquisitive. “Sorry, I have to, er, go to the toilet,” Dan stammered, turning on his heels and speed-walking out of the room. 

Phil watched Howell march out of the room and tossed all of his inhibitions out of the window, standing up and hurrying out of the room after him. He refused to let Dan suffer on his own anymore. 

He followed Dan’s desperate, quick paced footsteps down the hallway and around a corner, ignoring the stitch in his side from running. God, I need to work out more, he thought, coming to a halt as one of the doors slammed. It was a normally empty hallway. 

Phil pushed open one of the doors, cautiously, slowly. It creaked, announcing his entrance. Dan was huddled in one of the corners, hugging his knees to his chest, his body shaking all over. He had tears rolling down his face when he looked up to see who had followed. 

His eyes widened when they saw Phil standing before him. “Oh, my God,” Phil breathed at the sight. He all but lunged across the room towards Dan. Dan returned his face to his knees, sobbing loudly into his knees. Phil felt his heart shatter like glass, breaking just from looking at Dan curled up against the wall. “Dan. Dan, look at me. Please,” he whispered, pleaded, reaching out a hand to touch Dan’s knee. 

Slowly, like a tiny puppy, Dan moved his head up to face him, the gold normally present in his eyes completely desaturated. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, a flood of tears rolling down his face. “Oh, Dan. Come—just come here,” Phil insisted, pulling the frail body towards him. 

He nearly tumbled backwards, but managed to catch himself in time, pulling Dan easily into his lap. Phil tried to ignore the tiny voice in his head screaming that Dan Howell was in his lap. It seemed to want to ignore the fact that he was sobbing into his shirt, clutching it with his fists like his life depended on it. His whole body shook like an earthquake, his arms wrapped tightly around Phil’s neck. 

Rubbing a hand up and down Dan’s back(he took note of how easily he could feel his spine) in a soothing manner. His legs were wrapped around Phil’s waist as well, as if he were a baby koala. “Shhh, it’s okay, Dan. You’re okay,” he cooed, rubbing Dan’s back still. He tilted his head forward slightly and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, hoping it might soothe the poor boy’s pain, even just little. 

Dan shivered at the touch, instinctively holding Phil closer. They were desperate for contact, for Phil’s contact. “W-why did you follow m-me?” they asked, leaning away, still keeping their legs wrapped around him. There was something calming about this position. 

Phil wiped one of Dan’s tears off their face, sending a jolt of electricity throughout their body and a rush of blood to their cheeks. “Because, I hate to see any guy like this. I know we’re not close, like at all, but I especially hate seeing you like this. Crying,” he admitted, making Dan blush even more so. 

Dan chuckled lightly, wiping their face with their sleeve. Their laugh was that heartbreaking crackle that people made when they were still on the verge of a breakdown. “I know this isn’t the best of times to say this, but I really should tell you that I’m not actually a boy,” they opted, their cheeks even redder, if that were possible. 

Phil raised his eyebrows. “Wait, what? Are you… are you a girl?” he blubbered, a bewildered look on his face. 

Dan shook their head. “Nope. I’m agender. You know, like we talked about in class recently. I have no gender. I’m just Dan,” they explained, keeping their arms wrapped loosely around Phil’s shoulders. He didn't seem to be protesting that. 

Phil nodded, looking at the floor. “So, like, do you go by other pronouns from he? Because if so I feel horrible because I’ve been referring to you as he for years,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing like roses peeking through the snow. 

Dan nodded. “Er, yeah. They.” 

“Ohh, okay then.” 

Dan was surprised at how easily Phil took it. He didn't seem to care. It was as if he found it normal. Which it obviously was, but Dan was expecting something. Anything. But no. Phil was completely fine with it. And Dan swore they could sing. Phil didn't seem to have a problem at all. “Anyway,” Phil stated, interrupting Dan’s thoughts, “What happened in there? What’s wrong?” So they were back to that topic now, were they? 

Phil noticed Dan visibly stiffen and rubbed their back again, pulling them closer again. He spun around, making Dan squeak in surprise, and leaned back against the wall to get more comfortable with Dan in his arms. 

“It’s okay if you don't want to tell me. I’m still here even if you don't,” Phil whispered, his voice soft and soothing in Dan’s ears. “Don't worry your pretty little mind because I’m not going anywhere.” Dan’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, their cheeks burning. Meanwhile, Phil was internally screaming at himself, his own face a bright scarlet.

Dan shook their head, sitting up so they could look down at Phil. They noticed that he was also blushing. “My mum died,” they blurted, trying to get straight to the point. “Like, two days ago?” 

Of all the things Dan could have said, that was not what Phil was expecting. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. “Oh,that sucks. What happened?” 

Dan scratched the back of their thin neck, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of it. “You don't have to tell me. Don't worry. I’m just worried about you.” Dan smiled, wanting to kiss Phil right there and then. But also puke because suddenly they were reliving seeing her over the break. 

“Cancer,” they forced themself to say, “She got diagnosed in like September and I guess you can tell I didn't take it well.” They lifted their arms to show how baggy their clothes were on them, one of their sleeves falling down to show their birdlike wrists. Phil’s heart dropped. Dan was sickly thin. And their mother just died of fucking cancer. 

“That’s horrible. I can't imagine how that must have felt,” Phil said, knowing that an apology would never be enough. “And, yeah, you really didn't take it well. But I’m not surprised. That's shit news to get,” he added. 

Dan shrugged. “My friends all think I’m anorexic, but I’m not. I want to eat. Like, really, I do,” they explained, one of their hands absentmindedly finding Phil’s, “But my appetite is just gone. Any food I eat just comes right back out. And not on purpose. Like, I’m starving. I want to eat so badly but I’m either never hungry or my stomach can't take it. 

“I look like death, I know. Don't you think I can see that? I don't look in the mirror and think, 'God, I’m so fat.’ I look in the mirror and I want to vomit because I look like a fucking corpse,” they blathered, running a hand through their curly hair. Thankfully, that was still intact. “Hell, I feel like a corpse. I barely even exist and I frankly don't even want to at this point.” 

Phil sighed, feeling his heart breaking at every word that left Dan’s bitten lips. Even bloody and chapped Phil wanted to kiss him. He flicked his tongue over his metal piercing, as if that might help. “Ugh, c’mere,” he muttered, opening his arms. Dan willingly scooted forward, wrapping their arms around his neck. “You’re gonna be okay,” Phil whispered as he rubbed Dan’s back, “I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you will.” 

A few minutes later, they got back to their feet, Phil helping to pull Dan to their feet. When he tried to let go, seeing as that would be the normal thing to do with a roommate who didn't like you romantically, Dan simply tightened their grip.

Phil didn't let go again. He simply twisted their hands slightly so that he could lace their fingers together, pulling Dan towards the class again. Holding hands felt like, as long as they were still by each other’s side, they could conquer anything.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: Relative violence

The next day, Phil couldn't find Dan anywhere. They weren’t in the dorm that morning and their bed didn't look as if it had even been slept in. They weren't at breakfast or lunch, nor their meteorology lesson that they had together that afternoon. 

Phil was already starting to get worried when they weren't there during dinner either. Phil stared at the table Dan normally ate, where their friends were talking and laughing normally, as if their friend hadn't disappeared off the face of the planet suddenly. 

When Phil went to bed that evening, he fully expected to find Dan there. Maybe they were having a bad day and didn't want to be in class? Phil pushed their bedroom door open only to find it just as empty and cold as it was that morning when he left. 

Phil didn't sleep that night. Every tiny noise made him think it was Dan returning, only to find out it was a tree branch hitting the window or the air con turning off. He tossed and turned, images of Dan flashing in his mind over and over. 

Two days later, Dan was still missing. 

Phil looked worse than ever, his shirt mostly untucked and his hair permanently in a mess. He only partially tied his tie, spending most of his lessons only partially awake. He nearly broke his nose during a particularly boring History lesson when he slammed his head on the desk by accident, falling asleep for the first time since Dan’s disappearance. 

On the third day of Dan being missing, Phil hurried over to Dan’s friends at dinner, leaning on the table and fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt. “Hi, do you guys know where Dan is?... We have, uh, patrolling tonight and I’d rather not do it alone.” His face flushed scarlet at his lie, knowing that none of them would fall for it. They all just gave him weird looks as if he was something on the bottom of their shoe suddenly doing a tap dance. 

“I don't know where they are, sorry, Lester,” the girl with mesmerising brown hair, Zoe, stated, batting her eyelashes. 

The girl next to her, Louise, chimed in, “I wish we knew. Sorry.” She seemed genuinely sorry, but it didn't do anything to calm Phil’s nerves. He skipped on dinner and went to bed early. This time, he slept in Dan’s bed. 

—

Professor Carson was going on about what would normally be an interesting topic of how Elemental People were used during the Vietnam War. Phil had his chin on the desk, staring lazily up at his teacher. Dan had been missing for a week now and Phil had probably had about four hours of sleep since then. He yawned, moving to rest his cheek in the palm of his hand, resting on his elbow. His glasses were crooked on his face. 

“The traps, which were intricately made by—” Professor Carson was saying when he was suddenly interrupted by the door to the class flying open. Heads turned and chairs shrieked as people looked to see who it was. 

Phil swore he could pass out. Standing in the doorway, looking slightly windswept, was Dan. In less than a minute, Dan made their way straight to Phil, dropping into the seat beside him with an apologetic smile. Phil sat up straighter, looking at Dan in awe. The way one might look at a celebrity idle. 

“Sorry for disappearing on you. I’ll explain later, don't worry,” Dan whispered, pulling out their stuff from their backpack. When Phil still gazed in bewilderment at them, Dan waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Phil? Anyone home?” 

Phil shook himself off wildly, coming back to his senses again. Rewinding to Dan’s question again, he nodded slowly. He could vaguely hear Professor Carson continuing with the class. All Phil cared about, however, was that Dan was back again. 

Later that day, during dinner, something rather odd happened. Phil was sitting in his usual spot with Dodie, Nikita and Thomas (Chris and PJ were elsewhere doing who knows what) when Dan marched up. “Er, hi, Phil. Can I talk to you for a moment? In private?” they asked, fiddling with their hands in front of their lap, cheeks a bright crimson hue. 

Phil nodded, apologising to his friends before following Dan out of the hall and into the entrance. The cafeteria’s boom of shouting, laughing and general noise was muffled as soon as the huge metal doors shut, leaving them in the silent front hall. It was almost eerie with how still and hushed it was, as if noise had been blocked off entirely. 

And then Dan spoke. “I’m so so sorry about just disappearing for a week. Seriously,” they blurted, pulling Phil from his thoughts. “I had to go to my mum’s funeral and I forgot to tell you because I wasn't even sure if I even wanted to go because I wasn't sure I was ready to face that. I still don't think I was, really. It was so hard, I could barely look at the casket without feeling like I might vomit,” they rambled, their voice quick and anxious. 

“Speaking of vomit, I managed to eat an entire pizza with my cousin and I didn't vomit. I don't know how I can go from being unable to stomach a piece of cereal without hurling right to devouring a pizza, but hey, I’ll take it,” they were talking so fast Phil wanted to shush them with their finger. Either that or do a romcom and pull them into a slightly creepy and non-consensual kiss. 

“I’m glad you managed to eat… Now give me a hug because I think we both need one,” Phil stated, grinning, “You, because you had a funeral and me because I like hugs.” Dan chuckled at Phil’s comment but nonetheless hugged him. It was a much better hug, in Phil’s opinion, when he wasn't trying to calm someone down from a crisis. 

When they pulled apart, both teens were blushing profusely. “I-I’m gonna go back to dinner, but I’ll see you later, yeah?” Phil stated, his voice shaky from hugging Dan. He still wasn't over their new found… friendship? Could it be called that? Whatever it was, Phil loved it. 

“What was all that about?” Dodie asked when Phil returned from his conversation with Dan. Thomas and Niki were looking curiously at him as well. 

Phil replied, “Well, you remember when I went and comforted them during Sexuality studies and then they disappeared this past week?” They nodded. “He–sorry, they were basically just explaining that they were at their mum’s funeral. Did I mention we hugged?”

Needless to say, Phil was quite excited about seeing Dan again. 

—

Just like every disaster, it started out as an ordinary day. It was a boring day, actually. Any student or staff member would agree that they wished it had stayed that way; uneventful and dull and quiet. That was much better than the school suddenly catching on fire. 

Dan was in the midst of a very slow lesson of Astronomy, listening to Professor Milan talking about Pluto. They were tapping their pencil on the desk while Louise leaned her head on their shoulder, apparently about to fall asleep. She yawned audibly, sitting up on her elbow to give Dan’s shoulder a break. 

Meanwhile, in Geology, Phil wasn't having much more interesting of a lesson. Professor Lancaster was droning on about river formations in valleys, either oblivious or apathetic to the utmost boredom of his students. Phil leaned forward on the desk, resting his chin on his folded arms. PJ was next to him, doodling an alien in the corner of his notes. 

Dan turned to Louise and whispered, “Please euthanise me. This class is dreadful.” Louise chuckled under her breath and elbowed them in the side, shaking her long blonde hair into their face. Dan groaned, leaning back on the feet of their chair, stifling a yawn. 

Phil watched as PJ drew a tiny drawing of himself and wrote underneath it in bubble letters: PJ, tiny planet explorer. Phil giggled, reaching out and poking the paper. “Are you a tiny planet explorer, Peej?” he whispered tiredly, smiling childishly. PJ shrugged, adding another curl to his drawing. “When will this lesson end?” Phil whined quietly, turning back to PJ. PJ shrugged. 

As if the universe were reading their minds, the bell for second period went off. Not expecting the sudden burst of noise, Dan tipped their seat all the way back and slammed onto the floor with a shriek. Phil, meanwhile, jumped up from his seat and started packing up his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. Dan groaned, rubbing the back of their head in pain. Phil grabbed PJ’s wrist and dragged him into the hall. 

Only Louise and Dan were left in the classroom as she helped them up onto their feet. They grabbed their backpack and packed it up while Louise leaned against the desk, her pink backpack already on her back. “Ready to go?” she asked. Dan nodded, slinging their bag over their shoulders. 

BANG

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a massive explosion went off in the entrance hall. As soon as the explosion disappeared, it was replaced with screams as fires popped up all along the different staircases. All over the entry to the school, people screamed and shouted out as they were burned by the fires. 

“What was that?!” Louise exclaimed as they heard the noises coming from several floors away. Dan shook their head and Louise grabbed their wrist to pull them down the stairs and towards the source. 

“Oh, my God!” she whisper-shouted as they reached the top of the stairs and looked down at the chaos below. 

Students and teachers were running around, up and down the stairs in a panic. There were a few bursts of water dotted around as people with water powers attempted to put out the bout of fires. “Come on, we have to help them!” Dan urged, tugging Louise by the hand down the stairs. They jogged halfway down the stairs to where another fire was forming. 

Dan let go of Louise and held out their arms in front of them, splaying their fingers. They took a deep breath in, focusing on the fire and putting it out. They pushed their energy, their power, their mastery into their hands and urged the water they could control to blast the fire out of existence. “Come on, come on, come on,” they muttered, digging their heels into the steps. After a short few seconds, a surge of water came out of their hands, smothering the fire in seconds. 

Once the fire was out, another fire came to life near the bottom of the steps. “Come on!” they shouted, grabbing Louise’s hand again. They sprinted down the stairs in an instant and started on putting out yet another fire. 

Meanwhile, at the other side of the hall, Phil was trying to help out a first year who was stuck under a piece of a pillar that collapsed. “I’ve got you. Don't worry,” he assured, trying to lift up the child. The pillar was heavy and Phil didn't work out, so he was struggling to get the rubble off of the child. He mentally begged the universe to help him lift it up, groaning as he continued his pulling and pushing. 

Nearby, just a few feet behind them, one of the steps caught fire. It was a particularly large one, its flames licking at Phil’s skin. Phil yelped, stumbling backwards a few steps. The stairs collapsed, crumbling from the fire’s power. 

“No!” Phil yelped, watching the marble stairs erode away like they were simply dirt on the side of a river. He could imagine the stairs falling onto the first year and panicked, jumping on top of the child just as the corroding steps took out another pillar.

He screamed, feeling the rubble raining down on top of him. He felt a few pieces of the rubble hitting him all over his body and then everything was gone and he was looking at an abyss of nothingness. 

Dan was sweating all over as they and another aquatic student from the year below worked together to put out one of the larger fires. A loud, crashing sound pulled their focus and they turned to look as some of the stone steps fell in on themselves, crumbling around students. Dan recognised one of the students, watching them throw their body on top of someone else. 

“Phil. Phil!” Dan whispered, their voice rising as they recognised the flash of jet black fringe. They felt a sudden surge of adrenaline and anxiety building in their chest and managed to put out the fire and five others surrounding it. “Phil! Phil? Phil. Phil!” they shouted, streaking over to the collapsing steps. They could hear other students, rather distantly, going there as well. 

They muttered soft ‘no’s and “Phil”s, grabbing pieces of rock and put them aside. They pulled a rather large and heavy piece off, their body pulsing with adrenaline and giving them strength. As if their body was using everything to fuel the adrenaline coursing through them, the sound all around them was fuzzy and muffled, like their ears were covered with a thick pillow. 

“Come on, where are you, Phil,” they mumbled, grabbing another hunk of stone. They gasped out when they noticed the familiar raven hair peeking out from under the rubble. “Oh, my God!” they yelped, speeding up their removal of the debris. 

Within another two minutes, Phil was almost fully uncovered from the fallen pillar and stairs. “Phil, hold on, I’m gonna get you out, don't worry,” they muttered, mostly to theirself as they pulled Phil out from under the rubble. They could see several harsh gashes on his body and his shirt was torn in several areas. Dan pulled Phil out the rest of the way, kicking aside more rubble. 

“Wait, there's a child! Help, there's a child under here, too!” Dan shouted when they made eye contact with a pair of terrified, wide eyes looking up at them. They blinked up at them, pleading. Dan looked down at Phil again, in their arms, still unconscious. 

They had to get him to the hospital wing, so they lifted Phil up in their arms, bridal style, and clambered up to their feet. Dan carried him all the way to the infirmary, muttering soft encouragements to Phil even though they knew he couldn't hear them. A few times, Dan was sure they called Phil a few choice nicknames like “babe” and “love” instinctively, but they weren't exactly sure. 

“Come on, love, you're gonna be okay.”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: references to suicide, cancer and death(very vaguely)

“Come on, Dan, you have to get up,” Louise whined a few days later. Dan was curled up in (Phil’s) bed, insistent on staying there. They hadn't left it in almost three days, simply clutching one of the checked pillows and crying on and off. 

After the fire in the main entry and a few of the corners, as Dan found out later on, classes were cancelled for a week while it was repaired. 

“Come on, Dan, you can't just stay here all day. Why don't we go and visit Phil? Would that make you feel better?” Louise cooed, pulling on Dan’s arm. Dan sighed aggravatedly and sat up finally. “Oh, so that's how I had to get you up?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. 

Dan shrugged and kicked his feet to the side of the bed. They stood up and made their way over to their chest of drawers. They put some black skinny jeans over their Calvin Klein pants and pulled a Kanye West t-shirt over their head. 

“Ooh, you should put one of you chokers on! What about this one?” Louise said from the other side of the room, holding up a black velvet choker with a tiny gold heart hanging off it. Dan shrugged and reached out to take it from her hand, slipping it over their head and twisting it forwards. 

Dan pulled on their black zip up converses and grabbed their keys, opening the door and stepping into the hall. “We’re going to get some lunch first, okay?” Louise said, shutting the door behind them. Dan groaned, scowling at her. “Oh, don't give me that look, Dan. You haven't eaten in three days and you certainly need the weight,” she said authoritatively, patting Dan’s still flat stomach. While they were certainly gaining weight again, slowly, they were still unnaturally thin. You could wrap your fingers around their arm. 

Dan whined but let Louise pull them down the stairs to the lunch hall. They had to skirt around the hall’s repairs, pushing the doors to the hall open. Halfway towards the lunch buffet, none other than Phil’s best friend, PJ, intercepted them. 

“Er, hey, PJ. Do you need something?” Dan asked, stopping in their tracks. 

“No, I just wanted to say thanks. I heard you were the one that got Phil out from under the pillar thing, so I thought I’d thank you,” PJ rambled, his cheeks coated pink. 

Dan smiled genuinely, nodding. “Erm, you’re welcome, I guess. But I’m sure anyone’d do it as well,” they replied, still horrible at taking a compliment, “I’m sure you would have helped him if you could.”

After a quick lunch, Dan immediately began pulling Louise out of her seat and ran out of the cafeteria. They dragged her all the way up to the infirmary, banging on the doors to get in. Dan had never done so much running in their life.

The matron, Linda opened the door, peeking her head around to see who was knocking so excitedly. Her eyes lit up slightly as she noticed Dan and Louise. “Ah, hello! What can I do you for?” she asked cheerfully, grinning sweetly between them. 

“We’re here to see Phil Lester, please,” Dan blurted, blushing as soon as they finished speaking. The matron chuckled at their flustered form. 

She nodded and opened the door all the way. “Although, I am warning you. He’s pretty badly injured and he still hasn't woken,” she explained, leading them past a few other beds filled with injured or sick students. She lead them almost to the last bed where Phil was. 

Dan couldn't help but gasp. He had a thick bandage wrapped around his head and his shirt was off, revealing a bandage wrapped around his torso. He had several butterfly stitches dotted around his arms and one on his cheek. He was lying asleep, resting on several soft and fluffy pillows, his chest rising and falling calmly.

In a daze, Dan sidled over to the side of Phil’s bed, sitting numbly in a seat. “I’ll leave you guys alone. I just needed to make sure you got here okay,” Louise said, patting Dan’s back and striding out of the hospital wing, blonde ponytail bouncing behind her. 

Dan looked around to see if anyone was watching. When they saw no leering, curious eyes, Dan slipped their fingers into Phil’s. They gripped his hand tightly in Phil’s lap, brushing their finger back and forth on the soft pale skin. There was a plaster on his hand as well. 

—

A few days later, Dan was tapping their foot anxiously, waiting desperately for the bell to ring for the end of the day so that they could go over to see Phil again. They had made it a habit now to go and visit Phil during their free periods and after classes. They would stop by the cafeteria to get something to eat, bringing it up to the infirmary to sit next to him for hours. It was just comforting for them, holding Phil’s hand and just watching to make sure he was okay. 

Finally, the bell tolled and Dan just about jumped out of their seat and shoved all of their stuff into their bag, only half zipping it. They said goodbye to Rhea and Troye and hurried out of the room and straight to the wards. 

Phil was still asleep when Dan got there, slightly out of breath and clutching a stitch in their side. He no longer had his head bandaged, and only had a few plasters here and there. Dan could properly see the gashes in Phil’s head. He had a particularly large one on the back of his head, which was leaving dried blood in his dark hair. There was also another, smaller one on one of his temples where a dried trickle of blood was sticking to the side of his face. 

“Phil, I’m here. It's Dan. I’m right here,” Dan whispered, scooting the chair closer and taking one of Phil’s hands in theirs and pulling it up to their lips. “Don't worry, I’m right here,” they whispered, brushing aside a loose strand of Phil’s fringe. 

A memory of something Phil said a while ago popped into their head suddenly: 

“Wait, if he was unconscious, why were you visiting him so much? It's not like he could answer you or anything,” Dan had said. 

Phil had replied shortly, “If your friend is ever unconscious in the hospital, then you’ll know.”

Now Dan understood why Phil had been so adamant to visit PJ in the hospital, even though he couldn't do anything. 

Dan left another hour later, kissing Phil’s hand again and whispering a goodbye. 

—

Dan was living their life in a daze. They went back and forth between numb and cold to anxious and agitated. They were sitting at the table with Louise, Zoe, Rhea and Nathan, twiddling their thumbs. They stared at their spaghetti and meatballs, only partially aware of their presence. 

Dan wondered what was going on inside Phil’s head right now. Was he dreaming? Dan had heard that some people dream during comas while others didn't. Was Phil one of the people that dreamed? They sure hoped so. It would be rather dull having to sleep for ages and not dream of anything. 

They were pulled from their thoughts by someone poking their arm with a fork. Dan startled slightly, looking around for the source. It was Troye, staring at them with their striking clear blue eyes and a fork in his hand. “You’ve been a bit distant lately, mate,” he commented, tilting his head at Dan. 

“So? I’m thinking,” they snapped, scowling at their friend. 

“You’re barely even alive. You’re here, but you're head is elsewhere. It's weird,” he continued, putting his fork back on his plate. 

Dan scoffed. “So what? I’m stressed, that's all. I’m worried about Phil, is that what you fucking wanted to hear?” they growled, looking between their friends ferociously, eyes livid. 

“Dan, calm down. We’re not trying to pick a fight,” Louise said softly, putting her hand on their arm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. Dan shook her off and stood. 

“Leave me alone. I don't need your pity or your comments.” And with that, they stormed out of the hall, their heart beating in their ears. They had no idea what came over them, but suddenly they were pulsating with anger. 

They reached the library in no time, heaving. Not from exhaustion, but from trying to calm their onset of tears. They streaked past the librarian, ignoring her tutting, and disappeared down one of the aisles. They leaned against a shelf just in time for the tears to take over. Their body was corrupted with stifled sobs and shuddering breaths, droplets falling onto their knees and the floor. 

—

Almost four days after the fire, Dan was sitting alone next to where Phil usually sat during Defence and Combat. They were going over a type of explosive plant that Dan just knew Phil would have been fascinated by. He was always getting overly excited about cool plants. 

Dan was vaguely listening to Professor Ansari’s speech, trying to write down as good of notes as possible. He wanted to make sure that Phil could easily copy off his notes so that he could get back on track when he woke up. But of course, several people had now pointed out that he might not even wake up. It wasn't a comforting thought at all, so they tried to ignore these as much as they could. Tried. 

A knock at the door interrupted both Dan’s thoughts and Professor Ansari’s sentence. She nodded for someone to answer the door. David Chopky, an Air student, volunteered and marched over to the door. He opened it to reveal the matron, Linda. Dan felt their heart leap hopefully inside their chest. 

“Hello, Linda. What can I do?” Professor Ansari asked cheerfully, straightening one of the pins in her magenta hijab. It matched her button down jumper. 

Linda whispered in Professor Ansari’s ear for a few seconds and then excused herself, flashing a soft smile Dan’s way. “The matron has informed me,” Professor Ansari announced, “That Phil Lester and Gemma North are now awake after the events a few days ago.” Dan didn't even notice that they were suddenly standing up. “Howell? What are you—?”

Without replying, Dan turned on their heel and sprinted out of the room, knocking over their chair as they left. They ran faster than they ever had, all the way down to the infirmary. They banged their fist on the door loudly, muttering under their breath for Linda to hurry. 

As soon as the door opened, Dan blurted, “Where’s Phil? Lemme see him.” Linda chuckled and stepped aside, holding her arm out to let them in. 

They scrambled over to the second to last bed where Phil was. He was sitting up in bed, looking exhausted yet cheerful. “Phil!” Dan shrieked, running over to him. 

Phil started to say something, but was interrupted when Dan just about jumped on top of him in the bed, pulling him into a hug. “You’re awake. You’re actually awake,” Dan breathed into his ear, mostly telling themself. 

Phil chuckled, wrapping his arms around Dan’s torso. “Yeah, I am,” he laughed, taking a deep breath in to get a waft of Dan’s shampoo. God, he missed this. “Are you comfortable?” he asked slowly. 

Dan was only half on the bed, half kneeling over him. They were mostly on top of Phil with their feet awkwardly bent on the floor. “Eh, not really,” they replied shortly, nuzzling their face into Phil’s neck nonetheless. 

“Well, get comfortable, then,” he muttered. Dan made a confused noise at the back of their throat which quickly turned into a surprised squeak as Phil reached out blindly for their legs and pulled them on top of him so that Dan’s legs straddled Phil’s. “Better?” he asked. 

Blushing profusely, Dan muttered, their voice a few octaves higher than usual, “Y-yes, thanks.” Phil chuckled at Dan’s obvious nervousness and took another whiff of their hair. “Did you… did you just smell my hair?” Dan asked, sitting up, arching an eyebrow. 

Phil’s cheeks coated pink with embarrassment and he looked up at Dan. Dan thought that Phil looked extra cute when he blushed. “I-I might have…” he muttered, avoiding Dan’s eyes. 

“You dork,” they laughed, lying back down to hug Phil properly again. “I’m glad you’re awake, you know,” they whispered, their breath tickling Phil and sending goosebumps down his neck and arms. 

—

Phil was released from the hospital the next day. It was after dinner that Dan came up to their shared dorm to find Phil sprawled out on his bed, reading Fahrenheit 451. He looked up as Dan entered, a grin plastered on their face. “You got released, I see,” they stated, dropping their bag onto the floor next to their bed. 

Phil chuckled, shaking their head. “You know, you left my bed unmade. It's almost as if you were sleeping here,” Phil said, eyeing Dan from the side, a cheeky glint in his eyes. 

Dan’s cheeks went a violent shade of crimson and they turned to look out their bedroom window at the fields. “Oh, we have patrolling duty tonight, by the way,” Phil commented, going back to skimming their book. 

Dan turned around. “Really? But you literally just got out of the hospital after being in a coma for four days,” they said slowly, knitting their eyebrows together suspiciously. 

Phil shrugged. “I offered to join you. You were going to patrol with Bree, but I thought she should have a break after taking my place for the last few days,” Phil explained, closing their book and placing it on their night stand. 

“Well okay then. I guess we should get ready, shouldn't we?” Dan stated, opening their drawer. They pulled out some pajamas and made their way into the toilet. 

When they returned, Phil was leaning over his drawer wearing only his boxers and school shirt. Dan’s cheeks bloomed roses and they cleared their throat, backing up into the bathroom again. Phil looked up just as Dan returned to the toilet, knitting his eyebrows in confusion until he looked down at his clothes. Or lack thereof. 

“I’m dressed, now. You can come out,” Phil muttered once he was dressed in his emoji bottoms and a Nyan Cat t-shirt. Dan stepped out of the bathroom, their cheeks still scarlet. 

They were wearing a white t-shirt with grey stripes around the sleeves and their navy blue tartan trousers. “You are not wearing those awful things, Phil,” they said, gesturing to Phil’s emoji trousers. 

Phil looked down at them, his face painted with mock offence. “What's wrong with them? I like them,” he said defensively, pouting. 

Dan shook their head, crossing to Phil’s drawers and ferreting around for a moment. They pulled out Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bottoms, holding them out to him. “You’re 18, Phil. How do you still dress like a five year old?” they asked, pushing them into Phil’s hands and shoving them lightly towards the bathroom again. 

Phil came out a minute later wearing the new trousers. He tossed his emoji ones in the drawer again and pulled on their converses. “I do not dress like a five year old. I dress like me,” he said defensively, referring back to Dan’s comment. 

Dan rolled their eyes and pulled on their own shoes. “Exactly. A five year old,” they joked, eyes twinkling cheerfully. “Now, let's go before we’re late again,” they added, clapping their hands together. 

They reached the entry hall a few minutes later, giggling heartily together about an episode of Rick and Morty. Professor Ansari was standing waiting, wearing her favourite emerald green hijab. “Hello, boys. Ready for your patrol?” she greeted, completely oblivious to Dan’s twitch at the word 'boys’. 

Phil stepped closer to Dan, brushing his hand on their back in a comforting gesture before removing it and stepping away again. “Yes, we’re ready for duty, Professor,” he chimed, smiling broadly at their teacher. 

She said her goodbyes and left them to their own devices. As soon as she was gone, they started making their way around the corridors. A few minutes in, they were walking in silence, only a few inches away from each other. 

“What’s it like? Losing a parent, I mean,” Phil asked suddenly, making Dan stop in their tracks for a split second. “Sorry, you don't have to answer if you don't want to,” he added quickly. 

Dan shook their head. “No, it's fine. You can ask,” Dan replied quietly, coming around a corner. Their hands brushed as usual and this time, Dan reached out and grabbed Phil’s hand tentatively, heart racing. 

Phil’s own heart throbbed in his chest and he intertwined their fingers together. He squeezed their hand comfortingly. “It hurts. A shit ton,” Dan said after a while, “I’ve had it twice, you know.” 

Phil did a double take, looking perplexedly at them. “Twice? You mean–you mean your dad died as well?” Dan nodded slowly, biting their bottom lip. 

“Yeah. He died when I was 10,” they replied, letting go of Phil’s hand to hold up their wrist, showing off the tattoo with Mark on it. “His name was Mark, so when I got my first tattoo, I got his name with angel wings.” They linked their fingers together again. “I’m gonna get another one like it on my other wrist, but this time with my mum’s name, Laura,” they continued, holding up their other wrist. 

“That would be cool,” Phil commented, looking at Dan’s bare wrist. “Uh, so what happened to your dad? If you don't mind me asking,” he added, biting his lip. He swiped his tongue across the metal piercing, catching Dan’s glance for a moment. 

“He got drunk at a pub and crashed his car into a pier,” Dan said, voice casual and soft. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

Dan nodded sadly. “Yeah, he broke through one of those walls on the side of the road and just sort of drove into the water. He drowned…” Dan sighed. “It's ironic, really. I never swam before then and after, my mum refused to let me try. 

“Then some guys while I was walking home, right next to where he crashed, came and pushed me in. I thought I was gonna drown. And then I could breathe,” they explained, rambling slightly. They talked quickly and sharply. “That's how I found out about my powers. How’d you find out?” 

Phil chuckled. “I mean, I always knew. I grew up in a family that had Earthen powers for centuries, so I kind of knew from birth,” he explained simply, shrugging. “I properly found out when I accidentally grew a tree in our backyard that broke through our back window,” he added. 

Dan’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Wow. I didn't know people could have like, generations of element people in them,” Dan breathed, pulling Phil up the stairs. 

“Wait, so where do you live now? Now that your mum and dad are both gone,” Phil asked suddenly after a few seconds of silence. 

“I don't know, actually. I haven't really been home since then. I mean, I stayed with my aunt and uncle while I went to the funeral and stuff, but I don't know. I’ll be 18 by the time I graduate from here, so who knows? Maybe I’ll rent a shitty flat in Manchester or something,” Dan ranted, using their free hand to talk animatedly. Phil noticed that Dan did this often. Especially when they were interested in the topic. It was adorable. 

“It must have been awful when your dad died. And then your mum,” Phil said aloud, turning to look at Dan as they looked straight ahead. They turned as well so that their faces were only inches apart. Phil could just lean his head slightly forward and… Dan turned their head away again. 

“It was. My dad’s was a huge shock and for a while I didn't think it was true. It didn't feel real,” they explained, “I kept getting upset with my mum and I even told her a few times that I wish–I told her I wished she had died instead of–of him. I was so angry and I just-I just hated it and I told her that I wished she was dead and–I don't know why. I-I was so angry.” Their voice broke and Phil noticed tears forming in their big brown eyes. Phil squeezed their hand again. 

“We didn't get along these last few years,” they continued, taking a deep breath to calm down themself, “After I came out a few years ago, we just always fought. And if we weren't fighting, I was up in my room ignoring her and moping around like a child.” Phil nodded to show he was listening. 

“Do you remember when, a few months ago, I just sort of disappeared during lessons?” Dan asked, looking back at Phil, their caramel chocolate eyes boring into Phil like laser beams. 

Phil nodded. “I got a letter in the mail saying that she had cancer. In her lungs. It was originally in her sinus, but they didn't catch it in time and it spread to her lungs. And then her brain, eventually,” they explained, looking ahead. They were coming up to their second lap of the halls. 

“I started deteriorating after she was hospitalised for a few days. I just-I didn't take the news well and I was like some sort of coward or infant or something,” they continued, their eyes welling up again. “I couldn't bring myself to eat or to sleep or to study properly. When I went back for the holidays, she looked horrible. She had her head shaved because of the chemo, but it failed and so they took her off of it. 

“It came as such a shock to me that I didn't eat for the entire two week holidays. At all. And I slept about half an hour in all or something.” Silent tears dripped down their face as they turned another corner. “I looked about as dead as I felt. I weighed literally half of what I used to weigh when I wasn't suddenly mentally fucked,” they added, laughing slightly despite still crying. 

When Dan finally finished their story, their face was soaked with silent tears. Phil stopped them in the hallway and wiped away a few of the tears while Dan laughed again. They laughed in that heartbreaking way that someone laughs through their tears, like shattering glass. Phil felt his own heart break in his chest. “You’re not a coward, Dan. At all,” he said reassuringly, returning his hand to Dan’s and pulling them down the corridor again. “Weren't you the one that saved me? From the fire?” 

Dan’s cheeks burned. They nodded. “But weren't you the one that jumped on top of a kid to save them from the shower of rubble? You risked your life. I just put out some fires and helped to dig you out,” they replied quickly. They clearly weren't going to take a compliment. 

“I’m sorry you and your mum didn't get along, by the way,” Phil stated. “I—I don't get along with mine either.” His heart hammered in his chest and his voice cracked on the last word of his comment. 

Dan tilted their head, their eyes asking him to continue. “How so?” they asked, biting their lip again. 

Phil took a deep breath. “She's—she’s just always angry with me. She doesn't accept me for who I am and she always makes me feel less than human,” he elaborated, taking deep breaths. They hadn't told anyone except PJ about her. “Sh-she hits me. A lot. Constantly,” he admitted, holding his breath, “Whenever I do anything wrong—which is always. I’m a terrible human and I’m useless at most things—she’ll punch me or slap me or throw something at me. She—she calls me names, too. When she's not hurting me physically, she’s using her words as knives. Sh-she insults me and she shouts at m-me and she calls m-me names and i-it just—I just hate it.” 

He finished his story at the same time they finished their next lap of the school, his own eyes filling with tears. Dan’s jaw dropped about halfway through his speech, their eyes wide and terrified almost. “Oh my God, Phil. I had no—I can't believe you have to put up with that,” they blubbered, “W-what about your dad? Can't he stop it?” 

Phil shook his head. “He died when I was like 2. I never knew him, so that's why I asked what it's like to lose a parent. Because I don't remember,” Phil explained as Dan’s eyes grew even wider than thought possible. 

Dan shook their head in disbelief. “Oh my God, Phil. I’m so sorry,” they said, still shaking their head. A single tear escaped Phil’s eyes and trickled slowly down the terrains of his face. Dan reached up with their free hand to swipe the tear away with their thumb. “You don't deserve this. You’re a literal sunshine, you can't have a shit life.” 

Phil chuckled and continued down the corridor in silence. They did another lap in complete silence, just enjoying each other’s company and holding hands the entire way. After almost half an hour of silence, Phil said, “You’re gaining weight, I noticed. You look much better. Much healthier.” 

“Thanks, I guess? I mean, my appetite is still pretty shit sometimes and I still find myself vomiting on occasion, but I’m definitely getting physically better,” Dan admitted, “Mentally, however? That's a different story.” They were nearing the end of their last lap, now. 

“Did I tell you I really like your tattoo?” Phil asked, holding up their linked hands to show the tattoo on Dan’s wrist again. 

“You did, yeah,” they replied, “And I have some others, too.” 

Phil did a double take. “Woah, really?” Dan nodded. 

“Yeah, I have one on my side in tiny cursive and it says 'have the courage to exist’. Then on my other side I have a rain cloud with some rain drops,” they explained, marking off on their fingers, “Oh, and on my finger here, which I don't know how you didn't notice, I have a semicolon.” Dan let go of Phil’s hand again as they made their way up the stairs, showing Phil the tiny black inking under their middle finger. 

Phil grinned, looking down at the tiny hidden tattoo. “So, what do all of yours mean? Mine are just because I love plants, especially cacti,” he asked, returning to holding Dan’s hand again. 

“Well, you know what the angel wings one means. This one,” they said, twiddling their middle finger, “It’s like a reminder that there's always more to the story, more to the life. Because the semi-colon means that the sentences aren't quite finished yet.” Their cheeks flushed a little as they started up another staircase. “There was also this trend online recently of suicide survivors with those, so I, uh, you know. Got it because… yeah.” 

Phil stopped walking. “You–you tried to-to you know?” Dan nodded, pulling Phil up the stairs again. “When? Why? How? Why?” 

Dan shook their head. “This summer,” they admitted, “Life got to be a bit too much and my mum and I never got along and my identity was impossible to understand, and not just my gender.” Dan took a deep breath. “Look at my tattooed wrist closely, Phil. Doesn't it look odd?” They twisted their arms, still gripping Phil’s hand. Just hidden under the tattoo was a vertical line going down their forearm. Phil’s eyes widened. They showed the same scar on their other forearm. 

“Please don't do that again. Please,” Phil whispered, letting go of Dan’s hand. They were disappointed for a second until Phil pulled them into a hug. “Don't do that again. You’re so loved and if you did that–” his voice broke and he pulled away, shaking away the unsaid words. He returned his hand. “Come on, let’s get to bed, now.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: use of slurs, panic attacks and general angst(this has a happy ending, don't worry)

The next day, Dan was sitting next to Louise, Troye and Rhea while they watched their friends eat lunch. Dan ended up vomiting that morning after breakfast and hadn't felt better since, so they were avoiding eating for now. They hoped they could eat again later, but they had no idea anymore. 

They looked around the room at some other students. They waved at some people they recognised, smiling brightly even though they felt sick to their stomach. They noticed Phil on the other side of the room, about five tables away. He was sitting with Dodie and PJ. Marcus, a guy in their year who was a notorious prick, was standing next to Phil.

Phil looked like he was trying to ignore what Marcus was saying while PJ and Dodie tried to tell him to leave. Marcus wouldn't budge. He leaned into Phil and whispered something in his ear, making his face go red. His piercing flashed in the fluorescent lights as his lip quivered. Dan clenched their hands into fists as Phil seemed to be struggling to breathe. 

He turned to Marcus and said something rather aggressively. Marcus laughed and held up his arms before sidling away. Once he was gone, Phil put his head on the table. Dan couldn't do anything about it, watching Dodie and PJ doting on him to try to calm him down. Marcus was a git and he deserved to pay for this. 

After school, Phil was back in the dorm room, avoiding dinner. He was curled in a ball under his blankets, trembling all over and crying.

Dan was downstairs in the library with Louise, Nathan, Troye and Kat. Dan tossed their head back as they laughed at a joke Nathan had made, shaking their curls out of their face and grinning. 

“You’re such a dork, Dan,” Kat teased, lightly punching their arm. Dan scowled, their dimples peeking out from behind their frown. 

“Yeah, you really are, Danny,” Troye joked, leaning back in his seat with a bright smile on his face. 

They got into playfully teasing Nathan next over something stupid he said, all pushing and shoving him jokingly while Nathan laughed through his embarrassment. 

“Yeah, Nathan,” Kat said while she fixed her purple dreadlocks, tying them up in a bun to get them out of the way, “You’re almost as much of a weirdo as Dan.” This struck a bit of a nerve. 

Dan stiffened in their seat, sending daggers Kat’s way. Louise shot Kat a warning look, knowing the effect that word had on them. It had been used against them all throughout their early schooling years and they never got over it. She caught Dan’s eye and shook her head, begging them not to react. 

“I’m nowhere near as weird as Dan is, Kat,” Nathan shot back, apparently unaware of Dan and their sudden internal crisis. The word was ringing in their ears, tantalising and jeering at them, mercilessly turning the dagger. 

Suddenly, memories of “weirdo” turned into “fag” and “waste of space” and even the time they had rocks thrown at them and was told “die emo scum” by some posh jocks in the previous summer break. As everything built up into a crescendo of invasive memories, Dan slammed their hands on the wooden table, standing up abruptly. 

“I am not a weirdo,” they seethed through gritted teeth. Louise opened her mouth to say something, probably to calm them down, but they shot her a dark look that shut her mouth instantly. “I’ll see you guys later,” they grumbled, pushing their textbooks inside their bag and marching out of the library. 

They couldn't breathe. They were seeing tunnel vision as all their memories came back in a jumble of harsh tones and shouts. They cut into them like razor blades and they had to hyperventilate to try to regain their breath. They clenched their hands so hard they felt their nails indenting their palms. 

Holding back tears, Dan made their way up the stairs, shaking their head violently as if it might shake away the past for good. Their hands quaked as they tried to unlock the door, dropping their key twice in the process. Finally, their eyes about to explode with tears like an overflowing dam, they kicked the bedroom door open. 

What Dan first saw was Phil. Phil was in the foetal position, shaking all over and breathing heavily. Dan dropped their bag on the floor and stumbled over to their bed. They looked over at Phil’s shaking, crying, panicking form and muttered, “Oh, fuck it.” They kicked off their shoes and tossed aside Phil’s covers. “Come here,” they mumbled, crawling into his bed. They pulled Phil to their chest so that they were spooning him from behind. 

Phil stiffened as soon as he felt Dan get into bed. Dan shushed him lightly and ran a calming hand along their upper arm. “You're o-okay, Phil. Don't w-worry,” they stuttered. Phil wasn't so sure Dan was taking their own advice. 

“He called me a f-freak and a-a fag,” Phil whispered, closing his eyes as a few more tears rolled down his face. Dan tightened their grip around Phil’s middle, pulling him closer so they were flush up against each other. 

Dan shushed Phil again, long and slow and calmly. They tangled their fingers in his hair, trying to calm both of them down. “My friends were making fun of me,” Dan started, “And I just re-lived every other name people have called me.” It felt better to talk about their feelings like this, with no judgement.

Slowly but surely, the two teens calmed down. Almost asleep, Dan pressed a soft kiss to the back of Phil’s head, burying his face in the dark hair. Phil sighed at the feeling, smiling to himself. They both fell asleep soon after, faster than either of them could remember. Maybe they should sleep like this all the time. 

—

A few days later, Dan and Phil were working together during Botany class. They were to be repotting particularly hazardous English Broom flowers. They had small yellow petals shaped slightly like bananas, their anthers sticking out long and thin. However pretty, the flower was on the list of “dangerous” plants they were studying that year. 

As Professor Fitzpatrick explained the many steps to growing the poisonous flowers, Phil stood very close to Dan, his arm brushing theirs. The contact still sent goosebumps along Dan’s arms, even now. “The rare Cytisus Scoparius, commonly known as English Broom, are a poisonous flower native to Western and Central Europe,” Professor Fitzpatrick was explaining as Phil gazed up at him in interest. 

“When ingested, they can cause a depressed heart rate and nervous system, which can result in severe numbness. In extreme cases, mostly in children, this can result in death from respiratory failure,” he continued, as if reading from the textbook. Phil was nodding along as if it was the most fascinating thing on the planet, but Dan couldn't care less. Phil was the most fascinating thing on the planet, in Dan’s opinion. 

Finally, the students were set to work with repotting the yellow flowers. Phil moved to the other side of the table, facing Dan, and pulling on his gloves. He grabbed one of the pots with the blossom in it, putting it down on the table. 

“Can you get me the bag of fertilizer and dirt? It should be labelled with a pink title, I think,” Phil asked, gesturing towards the shelving behind Dan. Dan nodded, turning around to see if they could find the bag. “It should be Sprigg’s Best, I think,” he added. 

Finally, Dan found the bag, lifting the heavy dirt off the second highest shelf, dropping it on the table with a soft thump. Phil watched intently as Dan attempted to shovel a few handfuls of the soil into one of the empty pots. Once it was half filled, Phil started to carefully tip the plant inside its pot upside down, holding his hand over it to catch it. Once out of the pot, he put the old pot aside. 

However, he misjudged the angle he pushed it aside, sending the pot to the floor where it promptly shattered. In his rush to try to catch it, he dropped the plant as well, crushing most of the flowers. 

“Dammit!” Phil groaned, kneeling down in front of the mess he had made. Dan, meanwhile, leaned over the table for a better look, trying to stifle back their laughter. Phil looked up at them, face painted with guilt. “Sorry, I’ll go clean up and get another,” he said sadly, standing up to grab a broom and pan to sweep it into. 

Dan chuckled, shaking their head and watching Phil fondly. As Phil bent down to clean on his own, Dan theirself squatted on their haunches to help out. “Let me help, you plant,” Dan insisted, grinning softly at Phil whose cheeks were a bright red like the poppies that were grown in the next greenhouse. 

Phil scratched his neck and muttered, “I don't know how I manage to mess up everything so easily.” He was sweeping the terracotta shards into the pan while Dan crouched down and held it in place. 

“You don't, really. You’re brilliant at botany, even if you have dropped your plants about ten million times now,” Dan commented, moving the pan a little to help Phil brush in another one of the pieces. “Remember on our first day when I accidently broke the pot and you yelled at me?” Dan added, looking up at Phil. 

Phil nodded, facepalming. “I was young and immature back then, what do you expect?” he defended, face still in his hands. He looked down at Dan finally and they held eye contact for much longer than was necessary. Dan’s eyes darted to Phil’s piercing for a second as it caught the mid-morning sunlight. 

“You're still a bit like that, now, dork,” Dan replied shortly, carrying the now filled container over to a bin. They put the remains of the now destroyed flower in the compost pile as well and grabbed a new pot, carrying it over to Phil. 

“You still haven't changed that much either, Howell,” Phil said slyly, though his attempt at intimidation fell short as he grinned at Dan. The classmates were all watching with an awed curiosity as two former enemies were having borderline flirtatious banter back and forth. It was a sight to behold, to say the least. 

—

Dan wasn't feeling well. At all. They were about halfway through their last period, Oceanography, when they suddenly got a horrible pain in their stomach. “Are you okay? You don't look so great,” Nathan asked, looking at Dan with a look of concern. 

Dan shrugged, clutching their torso with their right hand to continue writing. They were stark white and their stomach continued to have a dull ache for the rest of the lesson. They brushed Nathan’s comments and questions off, not wanting to make a big deal about it. They just wanted to go upstairs and curl up in a ball. 

That plan, however, didn't happen. Nathan insisted on bringing them to the dining hall for dinner, pulling on their sleeve through the crowded corridors. He was sure that it was just hunger and wanted Dan to eat more. Dan stumbled a few times over people’s feet, apologising profusely as they trudged and tripped through the hallways after their friend. 

They still felt awful by the time they got to the dining hall, their face even paler than before and their head beginning to throb. They selected a simple cheese panini and a glass of water, which they spilled a few times on the way to their seats. 

They sat down beside Louise, who was chattering away with Zoe about a particular show they were watching together. Dan had no interest in this subject, turning instead to say hi to Troye. “Hey, Dan. How’re y–” Troye began, noticing Dan's unusually pallid complexion, “You look awful. What happened?” 

Dan groaned, shaking their head. Seeming to have heard Troye’s outburst, Louise paused her conversation with Zoe to inspect Dan. “Oh, you don't look so good at all, Dan. Troye’s right,” she commented, putting a hand to their forehead, “You don't feel too warm. Do you think you’re coming down with something?” 

Dan sighed exasperatedly, putting their hands down and standing up. “I’m. Fine,” they said through gritted teeth, “Now, if anyone else wants to baby me, I’ll be in my room.” With that, they turned on their heel and stalked out of the dinner hall, leaving their dinner completely untouched. 

As soon as Dan got to the bedroom a few minutes later, they felt a wave of nausea overpower them. Swearing, they sprinted into the toilet and hunched over the toilet just as they felt their stomach pushing its contents out and into the toilet bowl. It stung their throat like flames, the acid from their stomach burning their oesophagus. 

Coughing and heaving, Dan gagged out the rest of their stomach fluid with tears in their eyes as the door to the bedroom opened. Phil’s familiar voice called from outside, “Dan? Dan, are you okay?” Dan gagged again and flushed the toilet, using a wad of toilet roll to wipe their face. Dan opened the bathroom door and stepped into the room. 

Phil was holding a styrofoam plate with a cheese panini, a cup of water sitting on top of his dresser next to his keys. “I saw you left before you could eat your dinner,” Phil commented, offering the plate to Dan. 

Dan huffed, pushing the plate away. “I’m fine, jeez,” they snapped, tired of everyone’s nagging. Phil stepped back, looking alarmed. 

“Your friends said you didn't look very well and you didn't eat your dinner, so I—” Phil began, his voice scared yet insistent, eyebrows furrowed. 

Dan cut him off sharply. “So you thought you would come and take care of me like some infantile?” they retorted, scowling deeply. “I’m not some fragile flower that can break at any moment, Phil. You don't have to be such an incessant, patronising ass.” 

Phil scowled as well, now, putting the sandwich on top of the black set of drawers. “Fine, don't eat. See if I care if you starve yourself again!” he exclaimed back, throwing his arms in the air. 

“Leave me alone, Phil,” Dan said, their voice steady and calm, as if they were trying to cover the boiling underneath their skin. 

“If you’re gonna be such a weirdo and a child, I’ll just go!” Phil snapped, almost immediately regretting it as Dan’s face fell. What was once a cool, irritable expression turned to one that could only be described as betrayal. 

Phil shook his head, taking a step towards Dan who suddenly stiffened, recoiling away from him. “Wait, I’m sorry, Dan. I didn't mean—” he began before being cut off by a blast of boiling hot water. 

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Dan screamed, spraying him with steaming water, their eyes shut tight as if they couldn't bare to look at him anymore. Phil yelped and swore, hurrying out of the room in an instant. Almost as soon as their surge of anger washed over them, Dan felt more exhausted than anything else, sinking to the floor in a puddle of sobs. 

—

The next few days were spent walking on eggshells. Any time Phil ran into Dan, whether it was during class periods or in the hallways, Dan ignored him and skirted away. Dan even asked to switch seats with an Air girl named Dawn in Defence and Combat. It was a low blow to walk in that morning to find Dan sitting on the other side of the room while a rather awkward looking Dawn sat in Dan’s place. 

Phil was also staying with PJ and Chris at the moment, trying to give Dan the space they clearly wanted. While he certainly missed their company a lot, especially at night while he slept alone on a tiny blow up mattress, he wanted to give Dan space until they cooled down. It wasn't the first time Phil had had to room with his friends to let Dan calm down, even though it now felt even worse. 

Phil felt awful after their argument. It was nearly impossible to fall asleep soundly as he tossed and turned with thoughts of Dan. He was worried about what he had said to him, replaying it over and over again in his mind. Every time he thought back to their argument, his body tingled like it was remembering the harsh, steaming water that Dan attacked him with. He had to ask Niki to spray him with cool water to counteract the heat. 

His thoughts weren't altered by the rest of the school’s excitement about the upcoming annual pep rally that was to go on in the dining hall. All of the tables would be put away and replaced on one side with hundreds of bleachers where all of the students could cheer on a friendly game of dodgeball with the staff. It was to be quickly followed by a lip sync battle with a wide array of both students and professors. 

While Phil’s classmates and friends talked excitedly about who was going to compete, all bubbling with excitement, Phil was silently planning to try to apologise to Dan again that day. 

On the day of the pep rally, Dan was in a weirdly good mood. After the students were all dismissed from their classes early for lunch, Dan hurried upstairs to get changed, dragging Zoe and Louise behind. Pupils were allowed to dress in whatever they wanted and Dan wanted to take advantage of their good mood. 

Apparently, so did Zoe and Louise. Louise was rifling through Dan’s drawers while Zoe looked up inspiration on her phone. “Flannel!” Louise stated, tossing a red and black fabric over her shoulder. It landed on Dan’s head. Dan threw it over their shoulder and onto their bed. After a few minutes shuffling the shirts around, Louise gasped out loud. “Wait… Dan, you own a skirt? Since when?” she asked, her voice an octave higher as she pulled out the black material. 

Zoe squealed, nearly dropping her phone. “Oh, Danny, you’ve got to wear it! You would look so cute!” She took the skirt from Louise’s hands and thumbed the fabric between her fingers. “If you do wear it, you have to go all the way. I have the cutest socks you could wear with it!” Without waiting for an answer, she shoved the skirt in Dan’s arms and skipped out of the room. 

Louise tossed Dan another shirt to go under the flannel, saying, “That's a nice shirt. You should wear it more often. Now go get changed into your outfit while Zoe comes back.” She grabbed the pile of clothing items and put it in Dan’s arms, pushing them lightly towards the toilet to change. 

Dan pulled on the t-shirt, which turned out to be a black t-shirt with white trim and the words 'NO FUN’ in rainbow. They remembered buying that in the summer. 

Next, they pulled on the red tartan flannel. This they found themself wearing a lot. When it came to the black skirt, it sent their heart racing a million miles an hour in their chest. They had never actually worn a skirt before, having feared the judgement. It was one thing to wear a casual choker and nail varnish, but to wear a skirt was a whole new level. 

However, Dan was feeling much better today and pulled on the skirt, facing away from the mirror. They took a deep breath, straightening the skirt out before they turned around. When they turned around, they felt like they were looking at a whole new person. But they kind of liked it. The skirt reached about mid-thigh, maybe a few millimetres lower, and fitted them well. Seeing as it was a skater skirt, it flowed outwards nicely, like black flower petals. They shimmied their hips a few times to feel the soft fabric, grinning like a child. 

Blushing but still smiling, Dan creeped the door open. “Is Zoe back yet?” they asked sheepishly, peeking their head outside the door. They wanted to wait to show off their new outfit until after it was done. “Also, can you hand me my velvet black choker, please?” 

Louise handed it to him and replied, “She's just coming up the stairs.” Dan nodded and shut the door again, fastening the necklace around their throat. 

Zoe’s excited voice appeared on the other side of the door a moment later, soft fingers knocking delicately on the door. “Hey, Danny. I have the socks,” she chimed. Dan could practically hear her smile. They cracked the door open and reached out an arm, waiting for the fabric to be pressed into their hands. They thanked her quietly and sat down on the lid of the toilet. Dan pulled on one of the black socks and found that it was a thigh high, two thin stripes at the top. They pulled the other one on. 

Once they were dressed, they inspected their reflection, moving this way and that. There was only an inch of skin showing between the top of their socks and the bottom of their skirt. Just enough to be interesting. Dan took a deep breath and opened the door to the toilet. 

Zoe and Louise screamed upon seeing them. 

—

Dan was wearing a skirt. Dan was wearing a fucking skirt. Phil entered the lunch hall a few minutes after most of the rest of the students had and Dan was there, standing between Louise and Zoe, talking quietly with them. As soon as they caught Phil’s eye, he felt his pupils dilate. 

Dan looked up mid conversation to see Phil enter, PJ and Dodie close behind him. Dan bit their lip, watching Phil coming closer to the bleachers; closer to them. Their heart raced in their chest, even more than it had been with all the obvious stares at them. The Depute Head Boy was dressed as a girl. Of course, Dan would remind them that clothes had no gender, but still. They could feel hundreds of eyes glancing occasionally at them, whether shocked, horrified or simply admiring. 

Phil whispered something to his friends and started making his way across the bleachers, apologising to pupils as he tried to get past them. Dan swallowed, knowing exactly what was about to happen. They weren't sure they wanted to listen to another apology from Phil. Hell, they weren't sure what they wanted to say to him either. 

As Phil neared, Dan subconsciously straightened their skirt, holding their breath as he came closer. Now, he was only two people away, trying to get past Nathan, who refused to budge. Dan sighed, pushing past Zoe to get to Nathan. “Nathan, I’m fine. I can take care of myself,” they insisted. Nathan shrugged, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Dan nodded and let Nathan push past them. 

Phil looked at Dan, swallowing the lump building in his throat just from the sight of Dan and the thought of talking to them. He was like a soppy rom com star, making way too much eye contact with Dan. “Hey, Dan. I just came to say–” he began nervously, voice wavering.

Before he could get the words out to apologise, Dan grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him into a kiss. It took Phil’s brain a moment to register what was happening until he simply joined in kissing back. All around, a burst of chatter and cheering(and even a few pathetic boos) filled the air. Phil had no idea whether it was to do with them kissing or something else. 

But he didn't care. He simply tried to enjoy the soft yet desperate kiss, wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist as they wrapped theirs around his neck. Their lips were bitten and chapped, but still soft and warm and inviting. Phil could kiss them forever. It was like kissing a sparkler as his stomach twisted and his head buzzed excitedly and all the sounds in the room became more muffled. It wasn't muted like the movies; it was just quieter as all his focus went into the kiss. 

Phil wasn't sure when, but eventually he felt vines, littered with an array of flowers, twisting around his arms. They twirled intricately around his arm and around Dan’s waist. Phil had, of course, made vines and flowers before, but they were never this strong or lengthy. He supposed it might be because of Dan. Perhaps Dan’s water, which pulsed through their body, was helping to strengthen and grow Phil’s plants. 

The kiss was short lived, unfortunately, and soon Dan was pulling away, looking breathless, their lips swollen. They giggled softly, looking down at the vines encasing them. Phil blushed and pulled the vines back, watching them unfurl and revert back inside Phil, as if playing in rewind. 

There was a small indent in Dan’s lips from Phil’s piercing as well. “That was…” Phil began breathlessly, gasping for air. 

Dan nodded, smiling as widely as Phil had ever seen. “It was.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: Very vague mention of self-harm scars and a few panic attacks

Dan didn't know what it was that made them kiss Phil, but somehow they did. Not only that, but they did it in front of their entire school. They couldn't even focus on the game or the lip sync battle after that, their head too clogged with a constant replaying of kissing Phil. 

After they pulled apart, both a bit stunned and completely out of breath, they looked down at the floor of the hall. It turned out that just as they kissed, the teachers entered wearing sports gear and carrying dodgeballs. Dan swore he caught Professor Ansari’s eye and she _winked._  

Dan looked away to see their friends. They were all staring slack jawed at them, their eyes wide. Louise was wearing a massive grin and she was squealing with Zoe, who was smiling just as much. Troye mouthed 'congratulations’ with a soft smile on his face. Nathan raised his eyebrows but patted them on the back, smirking to himself. 

Meanwhile, Phil was looking around for his friends. He caught Dodie’s eyes near the front of the bleachers. She was beaming like a flashlight, waving merrily at him, her brown eyes wide. She elbowed PJ in the side and his friends turned to see him. Phil, who's cheeks were a bright vermilion, rolled his eyes and turned back to Dan. Dan’s own cheeks were just as scarlet as Phil’s as they looked sideways at him, dimples popping. 

“So, that just happened,” Phil muttered, smirking and looking Dan up and down again, biting his lip. If possible Dan’s face grew even more red roses across the garden of their face. “I like the skirt, by the way. It, erm, suits you. A lot,” Phil admitted sheepishly. 

Dan giggled nervously. “Thanks. I like the… usual outfit,” they replied awkwardly, gesturing to Phil’s black skinny jeans and a white Captain America t-shirt. Phil laughed, looking down at his own outfit, sticking his tongue between his teeth. 

As the game started, the pair grew silent as they attempted to watch the game. Attempted. 

However, both of them kept glancing at the other, especially Phil who was enamoured with Dan’s outfit. Dan, who was now talking to Nathan about a music artist they both liked, squeaked in surprise when they felt Phil’s warm, soft hand grab their own. They looked down at their clasped hands, intertwining their fingers properly, a soft blush on their cheeks, and went back to talking with Nathan. It was as if nothing had happened. 

—

After the pep rally ended, the students were dismissed to let the staff reset the hall for an hour late dinner. Dan finally let go of Phil’s hand and joined their friends in going up to the library to hang out for the next half an hour until dinner. They all seemed to want to talk about a certain event that had happened just an hour and a half prior. And it wasn’t the dodgeball game. \ As Dan sat down between Troye and Louise, Nathan cleared his throat. “So, Dan. A lot has changed since literally this morning,” he stated, smirking. 

Dan blushed, nervously fixing their skirt again. “Uh, yeah, I guess. So?” they questioned, biting their lip. 

Nathan laughed. “Don't look so nervous, Dan. I’m happy for you. Not only for wearing a fucking skirt but also for having the courage to finally kiss Phil Lester,” he assured Dan, making them feel significantly better. “I think the entire school has been shipping you two for about seven years, now,” he added, winking. 

“I’ve been going to this school for seven years.” 

“Exactly.” 

Meanwhile, Phil and his friends were outside in the Earth section of the gardens. Dodie was chattering away about how happy she was for Phil while Chris and PJ kept chanting, “Phil and Dan, sitting in a tree, K-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Niki was nodding along to Dodie while Phil sat on the park bench with his face in his hands, his cheeks littered with pink. “I wish I had seen when they kissed you, though!” Dodie was saying, “I only saw half of the way through when Niki elbowed me and gestured to you guys.”

“What was it like? How did Dan do it?” Niki asked this time, her eyes bright and curious. 

Phil removed his face from his fingers for the first time, looking up at his friends. His cheeks were still tainted red. “Well, I only went over to say I was sorry, again and suddenly they grabbed my t-shirt and pulled me into a kiss,” he explained, thinking back to those jaw dropping, astonishing moments. He would remember them forever. 

Dodie shook her head, eyes still wide in awe, glittering both with hope and something like pride. “And the _flowers_! Those _vines_! You guys literally grew plants from your kiss!” She shook her head again, as if it was astounding to her. 

PJ nodded, stopping his chanting with Chris for a moment. “That's really rare, you know. It isn't everyday that two people have such a connection that they can create something like that,” PJ explained as Phil’s cheeks blossomed almost as red as his roses that he grew. 

Zoe was getting excited as well about Dan and Phil’s kiss, bouncing in her seat. “So, you just kissed him? Just like that?” she asked, beaming broadly at the still scarlet-faced Dan. 

Dan nodded shyly, looking down at their hands. “Yeah, I guess. I just–I didn't want to hear an apology anymore. I just wanted us to be okay again. I don't know what I was thinking kissing him though,” Dan admitted to their hands as they twiddled their thumbs in their lap.

“Well, he kissed you back, didn't he?” Rhea pointed out, leaning across the table to look at Dan properly. They had the tendency to make very intense eye contact sometimes. 

Dan shrugged. “And he held your hand!” Zoe said as well, poking them in the side. Dan squeaked, ticklish in their side. “I think it’s safe to say it was mutual,” she added, crossing her arms as if this settled things. 

“But what if he hadn't kissed back? What if he pushed me away and called me a fag or something? What if he told me he didn't like me anymore because I’m ‘gay’?” Dan rambled, their stomach tying in a nervous knot. They hoped they would be able to eat again that night. They hated skipping meals because of their shitty appetite or stomach aches. 

Louise rubbed their back, trying to calm them down and get them to stop worrying about what if’s. “Dan, sweetie, calm down. One, you aren't even gay. Two, none of that happened so you don't need to worry about it,” she cooed, rubbing their back up and down. The bell rang for dinner before Dan could reply or worry about it anymore. 

After dinner, Dan went upstairs on their own. They were humming the Totoro tune as they pulled out their keys from inside their sock(no pockets in their skirt)to unlock the bedroom door. They heard footsteps coming up behind them and turned to find Phil making his way over to them. 

“Hey,” Phil said, waving as Dan unlocked the door. It clicked satisfyingly and Dan pushed it open. 

“Hi.” 

Once they were inside, Dan pried off their black zip up converses, tossing them aside on the floor. They clambered into bed, forgetting all about their skirt, which Phil could easily just look up and see their underwear. Phil pulled his own shoes off and dropped onto his green and blue duvet, facing Dan with his legs crossed in his lap. 

Dan copied Phil’s movements, facing him, cross-legged. Phil’s eyes darted to their skirt for a split second before returning to Dan’s eyes. Dan fixed their skirt. “I should probably apologise properly for the other day. That was insensitive and mean of me,” Phil blurted, filling the silence that passed between them. 

“It’s okay, Phil.” 

Phil shook his head. “I shouldn't have said that. And I shouldn't have tried to pressure you to eat when you weren't feeling well,” he continued, “I just–I hate seeing you upset and I hate knowing you aren't always feeling okay, both mentally and physically. I wanted to help, but I not only took it too far but said some shitty stuff.” Dan nodded along to Phil’s confession. 

Once he was done, Dan cleared their throat and replied, “I accept your apology, Phil. I’m also sorry for trying to scald you in anger. That must have hurt.” 

Phil chuckled, shrugging like it was no big deal, though he could still remember the blistering heat washing over him. “It was nowhere near as excruciating as knowing I hurt you,” he replied, his cheesy quip making Dan blush furiously. 

“It was just frustrating, you know? I wasn't feeling very well and all of my friends were trying to dote on me and then you did that and I guess I sort of snapped,” they explained, “I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Anyone, to be honest, but especially you, Phil Lester.” 

Phil smiled, feeling his cheeks warm. 

“And seriously, I cannot apologise enough for burning you with piping hot water,” they added, “I just hate that word. I got it a lot when I was young and got bullied and then my mum started calling me it after I came out to her a little while ago. I just felt like such a child.” Phil stood up from the bed and sat down next to Dan, lacing their fingers together and resting his head on their shoulder. It was comforting, Dan would admit. 

“I guess we were both idiots.” 

Dan laughed. “Yeah, a couple of idiots with too many fucks to give.”

—

Phil startled awake at three o’clock in the morning. His entire bed shook and he instinctively yelped, sitting up, gasping for breath like he had been running. He couldn't seem to get his breathing to a regular pace as he realized his dream was ultimately what caused his mind to wander down that dark path. 

In the bed just a foot away from his own, Dan groaned awake, rolling over on their side. “Phil? Are you okay?” they asked, voice tired yet worried. 

Phil shook his head. “C’mere. Come cuddle with me,” Dan said softly, voice hoarse with sleep, opening their arms. Phil didn't hesitate before scrambling out of bed and slipping under the covers next to Dan. He rested his head on Dan’s bare chest(They aren't wearing a shirt! Phil thought.).

Dan shushed him soothingly, kissing the top of Phil’s head and rubbing his back. “Did you have a nightmare? What happened?” Dan asked, bending their head down to kiss Phil’s tear stained cheek. 

Phil sniffled, sitting up in bed and wiping his nose on his arm; he wasn't wearing a shirt either. “It was my mum. She was hitting me over and over again,” he explained through tears. Dan sat up, leaning against their headboard. “It was like last t-time when she threw a wine bottle at my head. Only, in the dream, she had devil horns and she k-kept on throwing hundreds of bottles at me,” he continued. Dan breathed in harshly at the mention of a bottle being thrown. They instinctively grabbed Phil’s hand, trying to calm him down while he tried to get over the horrible dream. 

“She kept on telling me I’m not g-good enough and that I’m a useless w-waste of space,” he continued, tears rolling down his face in a rapid, constant flood. “I’m not a waste of space, a-am I?” he asked suddenly, surprising Dan considerably. He asked it like it was the only thing that was keeping him from breaking. 

Dan immediately knew how to answer it. “Of course you aren’t. Everyone has a reason for living, for existing. Even if it's just to make a mess of poisonous flowers or having way too much knowledge on just about every kind of plant,” they replied simply, wiping Phil’s dripping wet face of salty tears. 

Phil smiled weakly, nuzzling into Dan’s chest. Dan grinned, scooting downwards to lie on their pillow properly again. Phil pressed a soft, dainty kiss to Dan’s shoulder, sending tingles down their spine, and looked up at them in the dark room, “You’re good at being a big spoon,” he added. 

Dan smiled, nodding and rolling over onto their other side. It took a moment and then they felt Phil’s warm back against their chest. They snaked their arms around Phil’s waist, pulling him closer to their chest and kissing the nape of his neck. 

“Goodnight, Phil.” 

“Goodnight, Dan.” 

—

Dan was in the middle of Oceanography with Nathan while Professor North talked about the ancient Megalodon. She had a massive photo on the blackboard at the front of the classroom, showing the massive creature. “The Megalodon was the largest carnivorous fish known to man, which is believed to have grown up to 18 metres or 59 feet,” Professor North was saying, pacing in front of the students. 

Nathan elbowed Dan lightly in the side. “Imagine running into one of those while swimming,” he whispered. Dan nodded, eyes wide. “I don't think you could be more screwed than that.” 

“Their jaws,” she continued, going over to point at the face of the shark, “are estimated to have been up to two metres across with the strongest ever bite force. They could easily rip through a whale, a dugong or a sea turtle, which is believed to be their diet.” Dan raised their eyebrows at Nathan, writing in their notes. 

They continued to write down more notes on the rather terrifying creature. Dan was admittedly glad that the monstrous shark was extinct. “While it is believed to be extinct, there have been several accounts of sightings in recent days,” Professor North added as she finished her run down of the overall anatomy of the fish. Nevermind. 

“The novelist Zane Grey claimed to come across one of the fearsome sharks, supposedly larger than his 30 to 40 foot boat,” she continued, the students sitting on the edge of their seats. “In 1978, just off the Great Barrier reef, crew and the captain from a ship which suffered engine problems claim to have seen a massive white fish passing their boat. They claimed it was much larger than their 85 foot boat and, being marine animal specialists, don't think it was a whale.

“However,” she said, looking around the room, “Even with these alleged sightings, 99 percent of scientists see it as extinct.” The class, which seemed to be collectively holding their breaths, sighed in relief. Professor North’s eyes glinted with mischievous glee, as if she was enjoying making her students terrified to go in the ocean again.

The bell rang shortly after and the students began to file out of the room, all whispering excitedly. Dan was still talking about the Megalodon with Nathan as they made their way down to the dining hall. “It could eat a fucking blue whale with no problem, Nathan. Doesn't that terrify you?” Dan was saying, pushing the doors open. 

He caught Phil’s eye as they passed his table, pausing the conversation to say hi to Phil and his friends. “Hey guys, how are you?” they asked, brushing their fingers up Phil’s arm for a split second. This action sent goose pimples up his arms. He reached up and caught Dan’s hand, squeezing it in greeting. 

“We’re good. What class did you just have?” he asked, still holding Dan’s hand, rubbing his thumb around the back of it. 

“Oceanography. What did you have?” they replied, looking up at the rest of the table. Behind them, they heard Nathan going over to their table. 

“Phil and I had Earthbending,” PJ replied. 

“Adventure education,” Dodie and Chris said together. 

“Drama,” said Thomas, grinning between Dan and Phil.

Niki, who still hadn't talked to Dan much since they broke up, said quickly, “Debate.” 

Dan nodded, feeling the tension between them and Niki. “Okay, cool. I should probably get back to my friends, now,” they stated, leaning down to leave a chaste kiss to Phil’s temple. “See you tonight,” they whispered, ruffling Phil's hair and stalking away to join their friends again. 

Dan slipped into a seat next to Louise and Troye, who brought them a slice of pepperoni pizza. “You two are intoxicating,” Rhea said, mocking disgust as she smiled at them. 

Dan stuck up their middle finger, poking out their tongue. “You're adorable and I hate it. Why can't I have that?” Louise whined, resting her head on Dan’s shoulder. 

Dan shook their head and took a bite of their pizza, shrugging in reply. They finished chewing and said, “I dunno, maybe you’ll _never_  experience a love like ours.” They grinned jokingly, their voice laced with sarcasm. Louise tossed a piece of her crust at them, sticking her tongue out. 

“I don't suppose any of us will, to be honest,” Nathan chimed in, bringing the focus back to him. His comment took his friends by surprise as they gaped at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

“I mean, it’s really rare for two people to create life like that. You guys just had a quick, public make out session,” He explained, earning a slap from Dan, “And somehow Phil grew vines that wrapped around you. It takes the most intense chemistry to do that. Clearly, you guys have _chemistry_.” He punctuated his explanation with a rather rude pairing of hand gestures, touching his thumb and index finger together on one hand and sticking his other finger inside it. Dan slapped him again. 

—

Phil rolled over in bed, reaching out blindly in front of him to find Dan, as if out of instinct. Instead, he found empty space. The spot where Dan should have been was empty, but still slightly warm, as if Dan had only just left recently. Yawning in the dark, Phil sat up, ruffling his quiffed hair. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, tossing aside the covers and standing. The light in the toilet was on, peeking under the bottom of the door. 

Phil grabbed his glasses and walked carefully over to the toilet door, gently tapping his bent fingers on the door. He could hear movement from the other side of the door. “Dan? Dan, are you alright in there?” he asked cautiously, his voice soft and etched with concern. 

After a short silence, a broken, breathy voice replied, “I-I’m fine. G-go away, Phil.” Phil knew what 'fine’ sounded like, and it wasn't that. 

He also knew the sound of someone crying.

 He tapped on the wood again. “Dan, let me in. I know that's not true,” he murmured, as if he was too afraid to hurt Dan if he spoke any louder than a whisper. Phil slipped his hand down to curl around the handle of the door to try to turn it, but before he could do so, the door swung open. He nearly fell in, surprised that they opened up so easily. 

Once Phil’s eyes got used to the glaring white light of the luminescent bathroom, he could finally get a look at Dan. They were standing in front of him, eyes bloodshot and glassy with tears. They had tear tracks all the way down their face and their white t-shirt was soaked as well. Phil noticed a small puddle of water near the toilet, which he presumed were also Dan’s tears. The most glaring difference about Dan was their arms, which were red and raw from scratching. 

They looked hopeless and lost, their shoulders bent over like they were carrying the universe on their shoulders. Phil let out a soft gasp when he saw them, opening their arms for a hug. Dan just about threw themself into his arms, gripping tightly around his middle like their life depended on it. Their tears soaked Phil’s shirt almost instantly. 

Phil rubbed Dan’s back up and down, shushing them quietly. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. Don't worry, Dan, baby. You’re gonna be alright,” he whispered comfortingly, still brushing his fingers up and down Dan’s back, wrinkling the shirt up a bit with his hand. 

Phil was muttering out nonsense now, hardly aware of what he was saying as he tried to comfort the crying teenager who was trying to hold up the world. “Shh, you're okay, baby. It's okay. Let it out, love, let it out,” he whispered, the nicknames tumbling out of his lips without hesitation. 

A few minutes later, Dan started to calm down. Phil’s entire shirt was drenched now from the teen’s salty tears. Sniffling, Dan pulled away from Phil’s embrace. “S-sorry about your shirt. When I cry, I literally cause a flood,” Dan said shyly, gesturing behind them at the puddle on the bathroom floor. 

Phil shrugged, going into the bathroom to grab a few towels. Bending down, he started to dab the floor dry with the towel. “Is that a water thing or a Dan thing?” he asked, squatting down on his haunches as he finished mopping up the mess of tears. 

Dan sank down to the floor again, sitting against the cabinets under the sink. They pulled their knees up to their chest and replied, “I think it’s a water thing. Professor Ansari is a Water person and she said that she accidentally flooded a house with her tears once.” Phil raised his eyebrows, dropping the towel on its rack and sitting down next to Dan. 

“That sounds a bit inconvenient, to say the least,” Phil chuckled, looking across at their shower. Dan was scratching both of their arms again, vigorously. Watching sideways, eyebrows furrowed together, Phil asked, “Did you have a nightmare?” 

Dan shrugged. “Kinda. Not really, though. I just woke up to a panic attack,” they replied casually, staring ahead. Phil nodded understandingly and took Dan’s hand in his, squeezing lightly. “It’s a bit pathetic, I know. To wake up and have a panic attack for no reason and nearly drown in your own tears,” they said dryly, letting themself rest their head on Phil’s shoulder. 

“It's not pathetic. It's anxiety,” Phil stated coolly, his voice hard like this was something he cared a lot about. Dan was still scratching themself with blunt nails and Phil noticed a few beads of blood appear as a result of the harshness of their scratching. “Why do you keep scratching?” he asked quietly, wanting to reach out and stop them. 

Dan shrugged. “Everything itches. I don't know why,” they replied, stopping their movements and looking sideways, sitting up again. “It happens sometimes. I’ll get so stressed that I itch all over. It’s as if I’m allergic to stress,” they explained, eyes trained on a freckle on Phil’s cheekbone. 

Phil sighed deeply and looked at their scratched up arms and then at the soaked through shirt. He reached out, thumbing the thin, damp material between two fingers. “Do you want to change into a drier t-shirt?” he asked quietly, letting go of their shirt and looking them in the eye again. 

Dan shrugged, scooting away. Without saying anything else and without breaking eye contact, Dan began to peel off their wet t-shirt. They whipped the shirt off of their body and tossed it aside. Phil cursed himself for it, but his eyes raked up and down and around his torso. His eyes caught the tiny cursive writing on their left side and the rain cloud on their other. His eyes also caught the distinct, sharp lines of scars scattered around their abdomen. 

“You might wanna change as well, Phil,” Dan stated nonchalantly, standing up and exiting the toilet. In a daze, Phil stumbled to his feet and shut the light off, following Dan into the bedroom. Instead of getting changed, like Phil would have expected them to, Dan was back in bed, their crisp white sheets halfway up their chest. Phil gulped and peeled his own shirt off, discarding it on the floor at the bottom of the bed. “Can-can I join you? I can go back to my own bed if you want…” he asked slowly, toeing the carpet shyly. 

Dan laughed dryly, smirking slightly and patting the spot next to them in bed. “You’re always welcome in my bed, Phil. Get over here,” they stated. Phil let out a puff of air and crawled back into bed beside Dan, placing their glasses on the table. As soon as Phil was under the covers, Dan rolled over to lie with their face on Phil’s bare chest. 

Phil’s cheeks lit up bright pink and he looked down at the curly haired teenager. They were looking up at him with a soft, fond smile, dimples popping dramatically. Dan shook their head, nuzzling into Phil before falling asleep soon after. 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: use of transphobic slur

February came and went and suddenly, it was already March. Students were buzzing excitedly about Easter break, whispering and talking about their different plans. The halls were alive with excitement as the students anticipated seeing their families again. 

A few students, however, were not looking forward to the break as much. Some students were not welcome home while others had no home to go back to. Among them was Dan, who had no one to return to. They were especially afraid of the summer when they would graduate and have to go… somewhere. 

They had, of course, applied for several different universities in the hopes of getting a job to eventually pay for their home. But it wasn't the same knowing their “home” was no longer a thing. It was a depressing affair, to say the least. 

Dan voiced this concern shortly into a lesson in Oceanography. They were writing about the different types of dolphins and Dan was already finished with their essay, finding the subject easy and quick. They were whispering quietly with Nathan, both too bored to pay attention to their lesson. “What are you going to do for Easter?” Nathan asked, half-heartedly shading the corner of his paper. Dan shrugged, their cheeks a bright rosy colour. 

“I’ll be staying here,” they said shortly, “I don't have a home to go back to, remember?” Nathan looked down at the table awkwardly, biting his lower lip. 

He looked deep in thought. He went back to shading the corner of his notes for a few minutes, their table left at an uncomfortable and tense silence. When Dan thought that was the end of their conversing, Nathan finally spoke up. “What about when we graduate? What will you do then?” he asked quietly, looking up at where Professor North was standing, watching the class like an unforgiving hawk searching for its prey.

Dan shrugged, laying down on their hands. They tilted their head to look sideways at him. “I honestly don’t know. I currently have nothing. My aunts sold our house, did I tell you? I got a letter about it yesterday,” Dan said, drumming their fingers lightly on the desk. They focused their eyes on the back of Holly Fletcher’s chair, just to give themself something to look at besides his friends searching glance.

“They sold your house? But you don't have anywhere to go, now,” Nathan pointed out, his eyebrows knit together worriedly. Dan’s stomach tied itself in an uncomfortable knot. “I’m sorry. This sucks. Like, a lot,” Nathan added, his eyes trained on one of the holes in his paper. There was an awkward air beginning to surround them so that both of them were just breathing it in and out like carbon monoxide.

Dan sighed, turning their head to look down at the table, resting their forehead on the back of their hands. “Thanks. I just wish I knew what to do. I don't know where to go after school,” they said quietly, their whisper muffled by the table. They fell into an uneasy silence after that. 

Class finished soon afterwards and they got up, walking towards their next lesson together in silence. Dan frowned deeply, digging their nails into the palm of their hand instinctively as they made their way over to History of the Elements. They slipped into their seat next to Phil, still in a half daze as they stared straight ahead, their hands clenched unconsciously. 

Phil looked worriedly at them as they dropped into the seat next to him, their eyes trained on nothing in particular, glazed over like a frozen lake. “Dan. Dan? Dan, are you okay?” Phil’s voice asked distantly, as if he were calling out to Dan from across a football pitch. In fact, just about every sound was like that, all distorted and muffled. Phil looked down at Dan’s clenched fists and at their faraway, lost expression. At this rate, he knew what this meant. He had known Dan long enough.

Phil reached out and pried their fists open, splaying their fingers out. They ignored the deep crescent indents and shook Dan’s arm to get their attention. “Dan. Dan, you have to pay attention,” he whispered, poking their shoulder. When there was still no reply, Phil simply slipped his fingers in between Dan’s, keeping them there until Dan finally came back to reality. They came back from their daze a few minutes later, shaking their head as if trying to brush off the thoughts inside their head. Dan turned and gave Phil a sheepish smile before carefully opening their backpack without letting go of Phil’s comforting hand. Dan started writing down their notes, looking up at the board every so often, keeping their hand clasped together with Phil’s. 

They stayed like this for the entire lesson. 

—

The last few weeks of school went by in a flash and suddenly it was Easter break. Dan was stood on the edge of the platform, watching the express train pulling out of Draxicord Station, a sad puff of smoke billowing out behind it. Dan sighed heavily, sticking their hands in their hoodie pocket, their breath noticeable in the cold March air.  Dan turned on their Conversed heel and started up the two and a half mile walk back to school. They were really starting to regret their decision to go and say goodbye to their friends at the platform, grumbling quietly under their breath.

While it still felt like miserable old Britain with a chill in the air and a smothering moisture which threatened rain, a few birds were chirping merrily in the trees and the leaves on the trees were starting to grow back. It was like a rebirth as the cold wintery darkness bloomed into a bright and hopeful spring. Dan kicked a pebble under foot as they neared the school again, thankful for some relief from the unapologetic cold of the UK. A couple of third years were tossing stones into the pond in the Water section of the school’s surroundings. Dan gave them a polite smile as they passed, skipping up the steps three at a time. They pulled the front door open, grunting from the heavy weight of metal towering over them. 

“Dan, hello!” a chirpy voice exclaimed from out of nowhere. Dan turned towards the voice to find Thomas Sanders standing at the bottom of the right staircase. He grinned widely and strolled over to Dan. “Not going home either?” he asked conversationally. 

Dan shook their head, shifting on their feet. “Uh, no. I’m, er, between houses at the moment, so…” they replied, a blush creeping onto their cheeks. They mentally cursed themself for being so awkward around new-ish people. It was Thomas Sanders, what was there to be nervous about? 

Thomas nodded, his eyes fixating on Dan’s neck. “I like your necklace thing. I could never rock one of those, even if I wanted to,” he said, gesturing towards Dan’s favourite black velvet choker, a silver heart dangling from it. “You always seem to look so good in everything. You wore a skirt at that assembly once and you looked awesome,” he added. 

Dan’s cheeks burned and, as if noticing the blush appearing on their face, Thomas blurted, “I’m not flirting with you, by the way. I know you and Phil have a thing going, which is adorable. I just like complimenting my friends, you know?” Dan nodded, even though they were terrible at complimenting or taking them. 

After a minute of silence, standing in front of each other, Dan cleared their throat and said, “I have to, uh, find someone, so I’ll see you later, yeah?” Thomas’s wide grin faltered for a moment, but returned after a split second. Dan pretended they didn't notice, feeling their gut twist guiltily. 

“Oh, okay, I’ll see you around! Bye!” Thomas said, his smile looking faker than it had earlier. Dan always wondered whether he was faking his smile, but right now, he definitely was. Dan felt their heart beating faster in their chest. 

“Don't get me wrong, I like talking to you, but I was hoping I could go find Phil,” Dan explained, keeping their hands in their pockets. Dan couldn't help notice Thomas’s smile become brighter, his eyes twinkling. “Uh, see you later,” they said, turning and starting up the stairs towards their dorm. They heard Thomas's voice calling after him, saying goodbye again.

Phil was still sleeping when Dan got back to the room. He looked immensely peaceful as he slept, resting his left cheek on his two hands, his mouth just slightly ajar with his piercing sitting waywardly. His eyebrows were knitted together with a small crease between them. Dan wanted to reach out and just hold him in their arms, to get into his bed and cuddle up to him. In his sleep, Phil smacked his lips slightly, loud mouth noises breaking the silence of their room. As if trying to get comfortable, Phil’s eyebrow crease deepened and he nuzzled his face into his pillow, curling his hands into fists which clutched the bed sheets. _Jesus Christ,_  Dan thought, _he is way too adorable to be a real person._  

Dan walked over to their bed and plopped down onto their own bed sheets, pulling out their phone to scroll through Tumblr for a while until Phil woke up again. They were only navigating their social media app for another half hour before Phil groaned loudly and rolled over to face them. 

Dan turned and smiled at him. His eyes were still heavily lidded as he blinked up at them. Phil yawned loudly and said, “M-morning, Dan. How’d you sleep?” He sat up, reaching for his glasses and leaning on the heels of his hands. 

Dan shrugged, slipping their phone into their jeans pocket. “Pretty good. I can see you slept quite well,” they replied, swinging their feet over the edge of the bed, facing Phil as they smiled back at each other.  “It's 11 o’clock, so you’ve missed breakfast, but we can go down for lunch in half an hour,” Dan suggested, standing and walking over to their shared mirror to fix their hair. 

Phil shrugged, standing up from bed as well. He walked up behind Dan as they tried fixing their messy brown locks, wrapping his arms around their middle and resting his chin on their shoulder. “What on earth is this hoodie? It looks like a grey circus tent,” Phil asked after a while, fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. 

Dan scowled at him in the mirror. “It's fashion, Phil,” they retorted, “Besides, it's warm and I had to go down to the station to say bye to all my friends.” Phil shrugged, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of Dan’s neck and let go of them. The kiss sent a tiny volt of electricity all throughout Dan's body and they couldn't help but shiver. 

“Come on, let's go down for some food,” Phil remarked, pulling on a pair of jeans and his Converse and tying the laces. Dan nodded and they left the room with their fingers interlocked. 

—

Dan was starting to act strangely. Phil noticed this shortly after the rest of the school came back from their Easter break a couple weeks later. It came so suddenly, taking Phil by surprise. They spent most of(if not all) their break practically attached at the hip, studying side by side, eating together (when Dan was feeling okay), hanging out with each other’s friends that stayed back and generally having the best break of Phil's life.

Almost as soon as Dan’s friends came back, however, they seemed to go through a drastic change and suddenly they avoided Phil almost like the plague, as cliché as that sounded. In the classes they had to work together, Dan stayed mostly silent and at a slight distance, as if Phil’s presence was overwhelming or repulsive. Or both. 

Phil couldn't keep the thought that they no longer liked him out of his head. They were terrified that maybe Dan had stopped feeling even remotely attracted to him and maybe even hated him. Was it because of their friends? Had they talked Dan out of “dating” or whatever it was with Phil?  These stressful, intrusive thoughts were definitely not needed while Phil was starting his final exam period. If he wasn't stressing about his crush on Dan no longer being requited, he was panicking about his upcoming tests. 

On the morning of his first exam, History of the Elements, Phil woke up to find Dan pacing their bedroom, muttering to themself as they ran their fingers through their hair. “Dan, what are you doing? How long have you been up?” Phil asked anxiously, sitting up in bed and pulling on their glasses from beside the bed. 

Dan stopped pacing, turned to face Phil. “Three hours,” they replied shortly, voice unusually icy. Phil hadn't heard them talk to him with that tone since they were younger and… hated each other. Phil opened his mouth, beginning to reply before he was cut off by Dan again, “I’m going down to breakfast. See you in the exam.” 

Without another word, Dan was gone from the room, shutting the door behind them just slightly too loudly for Phil's liking. Phil flinched, biting his bottom lip and getting out of bed. 

—

Dan was standing outside of their Waterbending classroom, leaned against the wall while Nathan and Zoe chatted away next to them. They were currently waiting for the next student to be called in for their practical exam with Professor Smith. Dan drummed their fingers against the wall, trying to diffuse the nervous energy building up. 

“You ready?” Nathan asked them both. Zoe giggled, shaking her head and Dan nodded slowly. They practiced spraying out of the window all night and even in the shower a few times until around three am. Dan was feeling relatively confident about their practical for Waterbending. 

“I practiced all night last night,” Dan replied as another student exited the classroom. 

Olivia McNair wandered over to Dan, a sneer prominent on her face and said, “You’re up next, tranny.” Dan did a double take, heart thumping from their chest.

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?” 

Olivia scoffed, looking incredulously at Dan as if looking at a piece of dog poop on the bottom of her shoe. Nathan was having to hold back Zoe to keep her from lunging at her while Dan shot daggers with their eyes. “You think you’re a girl, so you wore a skirt to an assembly and looked like the ugliest slut on the planet,” Olivia retorted, grinning haughtily. Dan wanted to punch her right in her face. 

“I think you might have been looking in the mirror, asshole,” Dan snapped, their voice leaking with venom that was just barely being held back from exploding. Their ears were burning slightly and they felt a soft breeze beside them, a faint whistle in their ears.

Ignoring Olivia’s next comment, Dan shoved past her, seething as they opened the door to the classroom. Their feet echoed loudly on the tiles as they just short of stormed down the aisle to where their teacher was standing, eyebrows raised in alarm or amusement.

“That took a while, Mr. Howell,” he drawled as Dan neared. “And your ears appear to be steaming. Bit of an altercation in the hallway?” he added, his eyes darting to Dan’s ears, which, upon holding their hands next to them, were steaming slightly. That explained the whistling and their burning sensation. 

Dan shrugged, trying to debate whether or not they could tell Professor Smith what happened in the hallway. They took a deep breath and replied, “A bit, yeah. But I’m fine.” They walked over to the hearth, holding out their hands as they awaited the fire they needed to put out. Professor Smith turned the fire on and Dan narrowed their eyes, focusing on the flickering, rutilant light. The flames danced and swayed, as if to strange music, only to be quickly smothered as Dan pushed their water out of their hands to rain down on the fire. After a few short seconds, the flames were gone, tiny fumes of smoke floating up over the logs. 

Dan put their hands back down by their sides and turned to look at their teacher, their expression blank yet searching. Professor Smith was nodding his head up and down, jotting something down in his notebook with his face pulled into an impressed smirk. He finished writing and looked back at Dan. “Very good job, Howell. Please send for Nikita,” he said, smiling at Dan, his eyes soft.

Dan nodded and started down the aisle. They stopped halfway, however, and turned back around. “Yes, Howell? Did you forget something?” Professor Smith asked curiously, knitting his bushy eyebrows in confusion and mild concern. 

“I wanted to report a student for harassment and use of slurs against me, sir,” they said calmly, keeping their voice even and steady. 

Professor Smith looked taken aback for a moment, slightly jutting his head back on his neck for a split second, his eyebrows jumping. “Oh? What exactly happened? Who was it?”

“It was Olivia McNair, sir,” they began slowly, “When she came outside to get me… she called me a–a 'tranny’ and a 'slut.’” They were starting to find it especially hard to keep themself together, to keep from shaking. What if Professor Smith didn't care? What if he thought that it was wrong to be a different gender from your assigned one? What if nothing changed, even if Professor Smith cared?

Dan almost confirmed these fears when their teacher stayed silent for a good minute and a half, simply staring at the floor with their eyebrows knit together in concentration. Dan bounced on their heels in an effort to keep their anxious energy at bay as much as possible. They really wanted to run away as fast as possible.

Finally, when Dan was starting to feel sick to their stomach, Professor Smith spoke up. “You know, I don't like hearing about this kind of stuff happening. It shows that really nothing has changed since I was your age,” he said, “I grew up in a time plagued with homophobia and transphobia and I still live in a world plagued with that. It's heartbreaking to see students acting like this when your generation is supposed to be the progressive ones,” he continued, seeming a bit choked up, “I will most certainly be speaking with her, and she will receive a punishment that I feel is warranted.” 

Dan nodded stiffly, biting their lower lip. Dan thanked their teacher again and started back into the hallway. They alerted Niki and marched up to Olivia, their arms crossed on their chest. The soft murmurs of the students as they waited died immediately, as if waiting to hear what they had to say. “You know, there's a special place in Hell for people like you. The garbage dump,” they snapped. Olivia’s green eyes widened and one of her friends gasped behind her, apparently ready to fight Dan off. “One, you need to educate yourself on trans rights because I’m not a girl. Gender roles are bullshit. Even if I was, I wouldn't 'think’ I was, I would be. Two, I feel sorry for your ass what with all the shit coming out of your mouth.”

As gasps and 'ooh’s filled the air, Dan turned and told Zoe and Nathan they were going to the library. They asked if they were okay, but Dan was already halfway down the corridor. 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: use of a transphobic slur(once), a couple of panic attacks, general angst

Dan was sitting at their desk, drumming their pink-polished nails on the desk and staring out the window of their bedroom. It was nearing 8:30, so it was too dark for any kind of view, but Dan hardly noticed. Phil wasn't back from dinner yet and they had patrolling duties again that night. 

Of course, Phil might not want to spend so much time around Dan after they essentially ghosted the poor guy. Perhaps Dan was giving Phil the wrong idea, but Dan couldn't help it. They needed to think for a while and get some ideas. 

Dan thought back to after everyone came back from the break. Dan had been sitting with Zoe, Louise and Rhea, the four of them talking about their breaks: 

( _“...But yeah, it was fine besides the mini kitchen fire,” Rhea had been saying, finishing their story about forgetting to take the tin foil off of their dinner before putting it in the microwave._

_Louise turned to Dan, who had been staring at their finished plate throughout Rhea’s story. “So, gone much farther with Phil over the break?” she asked suggestively, wiggling her blonde brows. Dan swatted her arm, scowling, a blush prominent on their cheeks._

_“Not farther than kissing and hand holding, if that's what you mean,” they replied, “And we still haven't gone on a date yet.” Louise and Zoe exchanged knowing looks, which Dan knew nothing about. They understood nothing about their friends’ insinuations._

_Zoe cleared her throat, turning to Dan. “You really should ask him out, soon. You guys kissed like three weeks ago,” she said bluntly, as if trying to explain it carefully to a child._

_“A month and a half on Thursday, actually,” Dan corrected, mentally slapping themself for it._

_“That isn't better!”_

_Dan sighed, pushing their plate away and resting their head on the desk, groaning audibly. “I want to go on a date with him. Of course I do. I’ve wanted to do that since I was like 15,” they said, voice slightly muffled by the table, “But how do I ask him? What would we do? Assuming we’ve both liked each other for years, it should probably be a date that's special.”_

_Dan sat up, resting on their elbows and looking between their friends for some type of insight, some kind of advice or ideas. Rhea chimed, “I mean, there's that nice town a few miles down the road that you could take the bus to. It probably has some nice restaurants there you guys could go to.”_

_Dan shook their head. “No, it has to be something special. It can't be too generic.”_ )

Even now, Dan still didn't have many brilliant ideas. It was hard to get away from the castle for proper dates or even to hang out outside of the confines of the school grounds. While Dan loved it there, they wanted to make sure their first date with Phil was perfect and not spent within their school’s perimeter. 

But now it was starting to look like it might not even happen. 

With only five minutes left until they had to go downstairs to check in for their patrolling, Phil burst in through the door. Dan was already changed into a baggy women’s sleep shirt covered in cats in space suits and a pair of red and blue tartan trousers, their badge pinned to their chest. 

“Well, it’s about fucking time you got here. We have five minutes,” Dan remarked, watching as Phil stumbled out of his shoes and jeans, nearly falling in their rush. Phil rolled his eyes and put on his emoji trousers and slipped on his Totoro t-shirt—wait, that was _Dan’s_  shirt. How did that get in Phil’s dresser and why was he wearing it? 

Dan coughed loudly, eyes glued to Phil's shirt. “Uh, you know that's my t-shirt, right?” they pointed out. 

Phil was already tying his shoes, looking up at Dan and then back at his shirt. “Oh! It is! Sorry, I’ll just–” Phil blubbered, starting to take the shirt off. 

“One, we have no time to change. Two, you look great, wear it whenever you want. We’re basically the same size anyway,” Dan said, pulling him to his feet and pulling him towards the door, grabbing keys from Phil’s dresser. 

Phil blushed, opening the door for them and closing it behind them as they began down the hall. He looked Dan up and down, eyes mostly focused on top of Dan’s head. “I’m at least an inch taller than you, actually,” he stated after a while as they started down the steps. 

Dan snorted, shaking their head. “An inch? Really, Phil? Who cares? We can still wear the same size shirts or coats or whatever,” Dan scoffed, smirking. 

Phil wasn't sure he wanted this playful and borderline flirtatious banter to continue much longer for fear that it was faked or that it would soon come to an end. He didn't want to slowly die from their relationship, if it could even be called that; he wanted to just rip the plaster off and get it over with. 

Professor Ansari was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for them, a soft yet stern smile playing on her lips. That didn't make Phil feel much better. “Howell, Lester. Good to see you two. How are the exams going?” she asked as soon as they reached her side. She had on a floral print hijab on tonight, matching her floral long sleeved shirt and pink jeans. 

“Dan, I need to speak to you for a minute before I set you two loose about the castle,” she added, seemingly catching Dan off guard as well as Phil. Their eyes widened slightly and they knitted their eyebrows together, a crease forming between them. Dan nodded, gulping loudly as if it hurt. 

They followed her away, closer to the doors so that Phil could stand near the steps and watch, completely ambivalently. He rocked back and forth on his heels, curling his hands in an awkward shape, eyes wandering around the entrance hall.

“Professor Smith informed me of your—altercation with another student today. She will be spoken to tomorrow about it,” Professor Ansari explained as soon as Dan and she arrived next to the doors to the dining hall. “Do you have any idea where this might have come from? Was there anything to provoke it or was it sudden?” she added. 

Dan sighed. “I didn't provoke her in class today. She just came over to tell me I was next and called me a tranny,” they replied shortly, curling their hands into fists at their sides. “As for why she brought it up, it might be to do with me wearing a skirt to the teacher’s dodgeball game a few months ago.” 

Professor Ansari nodded slowly, touching her chin with her fingers in thought. “I see. I can see why it might have caused a reaction,” she said after a while, making Dan’s heart drop. It was their fault, in her eyes, wasn't it? “It was, of course, completely inappropriate of her to say such a thing.” 

Dan was taken aback. “Although, wearing a skirt doesn't even have to guarantee that someone is transgender, either,” she added, just about murdering Dan on the spot with surprise. 

Dan cleared their throat, scratching the back of their neck uncomfortably. “Well, not exactly transgender, per say,” they began, blushing profusely, “More like I don't really have a gender at all, if you get what I’m saying? Like, I just don't care much for labels or anything.”

“Ah, interesting. Okay. Well, I just thought you might want to know that we are dealing with the situation,” she said, looking over at Phil, who looked particularly awkward standing alone by the steps. “Don't wanna keep you two apart for too long, now do I? Don't ruin the castle you two,” she said, winking at them both before heading up the stairs. 

Dan made their way back to Phil and his already erratic heartbeat began to pick up pace even more. He could practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his body. They started walking. “So, um, what was that all about? If you don't mind my asking,” Phil asked, looking sideways at them. Their head twinged painfully from the adrenaline. 

Dan shrugged. “Uh, nothing really. Just some twat,” they replied shortly, facing ahead as they walked down the hallway, farther away than usual. 

“Are you sure? You looked pretty awkward talking about it,” Phil asked, looking back over his shoulder as if looking back on the memory. He could tell that Dan wasn't indifferent or happy about that talk as they held their hands in fists at their sides. This was a distinguishing factor Phil noticed that Dan did when they were angry or worried. 

Dan bobbed their head up and down once, still refusing to look at Phil. He could have sworn the fists at their sides tightened ever so slightly. “You really should stop doing that, you know. You’re hurting your hands,” Phil blurted, tapping the back of one of Dan’s clenched hands. 

Dan snapped their head to face him, nearly giving themself whiplash. “So?” they snapped, turning back to looking ahead. Phil almost preferred their harsh stare they gave him when they turned to look at him. Just to get them to look at him again. 

Phil sighed, reaching out to grab their hand and peel away their tight fingers. “If you feel like you need to grab something, just hold my hand or something,” he said shyly, taking Dan’s palm in his experimentally. He was relieved to find that Dan didn't let go, but turned their hands to the side to interlock their fingers easier. 

They walked in a calm silence for a few minutes, simply within each other’s company. Phil was both dreading and relishing in this moment, distantly aware that he was going to have to bring up Dan's sudden distance at some point.

When the silence was beginning to eat him alive, Phil let go of Dan’s hand and blurted out, “Why have you been ignoring me?” His pale, almost translucent skin was littered with scarlet as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Dan stopped walking, staring ahead at a glass mural of a flame mixing with rain drops. “Ever since your friends came back from the break, you’ve been so distant and—off. What happened? Am I boring or something? Are you tired of me? _What?_ ” he finished his rant harshly, his voice coming off cold and cut. 

Dan looked sideways at Phil, surprised to see vines wrapping around his arms, sharp thorns poking prominently out of them. His hands were curled into fists at his side, slightly shaking. Out of rage or nerves, Dan wasn't sure. “It’s nothing, Phil. Seriously, just-just calm down, okay?” they said, starting down the hallway again. They could hear Phil following, feel his presence next to them. 

The vines were beginning to cut into his skin, wrapping tightly around his shoulders as well, now. “It’s clearly not nothing if one minute we're fine and the next you spend as little time near me as possible!” Phil snapped, making Dan jump. They quickly composed themself and continued to walk. 

Phil wondered what was going on inside Dan’s head. The vines were starting to hurt, tightening around him and pricking his skin. 

Dan took a deep breath, trying to calm themself. “It's not a big deal, Phil. I’m not avoiding you, anyway,” Dan replied, voice stiff yet quiet, as if anger simmered below the surface. Phil had seen what Dan could do when they got truly angry, his skin practically burning with the memory. 

“Yes you are! It's your friends, isn't it? They talked you out of liking me, didn't they?” Phil spat, his voice cracking on the last word from the weight of his words. This insecurity was the biggest of them all. The fear that there was nothing Phil could do, nothing he could do to improve or change. The vines wrapping around him were tightening on his neck now, making it harder to breathe. 

Dan stopped again, turning their entire body to face him this time. Their golden brown eyes were more like mud, as if the water in their veins was making it murky and sick. “Don't you _dare_  talk about my friends, Philip Lester,” Dan snapped, voice laced with heat. Even their ears were beginning to heat up, both bright pink. 

“Well, that's what it is, isn't it? We were perfectly fine before _they_  came back!” Phil argued back, watching Dan’s ears begin to literally puff steam. That was a new one. The pale white steam puffed out of their ears, going sideways and _whistling._

 Dan shook their head, the steam still billowing out. “I WAS GOING TO ASK YOU ON A FUCKING DATE, OKAY?” Dan blurted, voice loud and echoing around the corridors. At this rate, they would wake the entire castle. 

The vines around Phil’s arms and neck retracted slightly. “W-what?” Phil stammered, his cheeks a bright scarlet. That was _not_  what he was expecting. A date? 

Dan shook their head, the steam from their ears stopping. “You heard me,” they muttered, all anger that was present before completely evaporating. Literally. “You know what, do the fucking patrolling on your own. Good. Night.” 

Phil wanted to protest, to stop them from leaving, but his body refused to let him. Even as the vines disappeared, Phil still felt his body in absolute agony as he watched Dan storm away. Phil could just barely hear a soft, badly stifled sob as they disappeared around the corner. 

Phil decided to finish roaming the castle for another two laps. If Dan wouldn't finish their duties, someone had to. He desperately needed some plasters for his arms and neck, tiny pricks in his skin leaking droplets of crimson blood. He wished plasters could heal his broken, guilt-ridden heart as well. 

Phil made his way back to their bedroom, his walking subdued and slow like he couldn't bear to carry his own weight. Each step echoed on the floor, blatantly reminding him of his heartbeat as it cried out for help into an ignorant and harsh world. 

As he reached the dorm, he realised suddenly that Dan had been the one to grab the keys on the way out and he had no way of getting inside. Unless he wanted to knock on the door and possibly wake a sleeping Dan. He really didn’t want to have to trek all the way over to PJ and Chris’s room. 

His heartbeat was pounding in his chest cavity, being the only thing to creep out of the silence as it pulsed in his temples. He covered his useless ears, shutting his eyes as if it would block out the internal ticking of a clock shut inside his front. He slumped onto the floor and rocked back and forth with his knees hugged to his chest. The pulsing in his ears continued to race and they began to make a high pitch ringing noise. It was beginning to give him a headache. 

The silence was too deafening. 

On trembling feet, Phil stood up again and, with shaking hands covered in dried blood, he knocked three times. He waited an agonising thirty seconds before the door to their bedroom creaked open to reveal Dan. A very bloodshot, tear stained Dan. They blinked away a few tears and let Phil slip inside, sniffling and wiping their nose with the back of their hand. 

They dropped onto the foot of their untouched bed, signalling to Phil that they had been pacing instead of sleeping. They pulled their knees up to their chest, making themself look small and compact despite their six foot something height. 

Phil crouched down in front of Dan, looking up into their bloodshot brown eyes. They no longer looked muddy, instead a deep almost-black, like a void. He reached his hand up and wiped a few of the many tears drenching their red face, leaning up to delicately kiss their cheek. 

“I would love to go on a date with you, Dan.” 

Dan’s eyes widened for a split second and they curved their lips up into a small smile. “Really?” they clarified, their voice quaking and wet. 

Phil nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry for forcing it out of you earlier. I was an asshole for that,” Phil replied, faintly smiling. Dan giggled wetly, nodding their head in agreement. “I should go clean these cuts, now,” Phil said, standing up, his knees cracking. 

Dan’s soft voice called after him. “Wait for me, I’ll help.” Dan jumped up from their spot on the bed and followed him into the bathroom to help clean up the many cuts lining his arms, shoulders and neck. 

A few minutes later, Phil was covered in many multi coloured plasters, his shirt discarded on the floor of their toilet. Dan clambered into their bed, pulling the crisp white sheets up to their chin and looking up at Phil. He was standing in the doorway of the toilet, looking conflicted.

“Cat got your tongue?” Dan asked, tilting their head in confusion at Phil standing uncomfortably in the door. They were confused as to why he wasn't just getting into bed, like he always would. 

Phil shook his head, his cheeks blossoming scarlet. He cleared his throat. “C-can I join you? I-I don't wanna be intruding or anything,” he stammered, cheeks getting pinker by the second. 

Dan snorted. Phil’s heart skipped a beat as he thought that that was a rejection of some kind. Was it laughable for Phil to sleep there?

Dan broke his thoughts and said, “Just get in here. We literally sleep in the same bed every night, now.” Phil flushed again and stumbled over to the bed, climbing under the covers next to Dan. Dan rolled over and nuzzled his face into Phil’s chest, draping a lazy arm over his torso. Phil sighed contently, burying his nose in Dan’s soft brown locks. 

 —

As the month went on, practical exams turned into written ones and most of the school was in a constant state of stressed. Dan paced their bedroom floor most nights(that they weren't patrolling), muttering under their breath. This worried Phil to no end. 

Now, during the Waterbending exam, Dan was trying their hardest to ignore the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall. About the size of a table, it towered threateningly over the students, reminding them of how little time left they had to prove they had learnt something in the last school year. 

Dan felt their knee bobbing up and down as they desperately tried to write some kind of essay on the importance of water in a natural atmosphere. They were blanking horribly on the many functions of water and how it gives life to Earth. 

They were hunched over in their seat, their clammy hands making it harder to grip the Doctor Who pencil Phil let them borrow for the exam. Their eyes flicked up to the clock: Only 53 fucking minutes left, they thought, going back to scribbling their answer. Their left handedness was definitely debilitating them today, smudging their letters ever so slightly with a faint grey which wound up on the side of their hand. 

As thoughts of not being good enough swarmed their head, Dan’s breathing quickened, becoming intermittent and short. They tried to slow the pace of their erratic breaths, but to no avail as their soft yet quick breaths turned into loud, gasping hyperventilation. Their vision blurred and their forehead ached with a harsh migraine. 

Finally, with only 15 minutes left, Dan finished their essay. Their breathing was restricted and random, their migraine placing spots in front of their vision. They could feel tears forming in their eyes, blurring their already fuzzy view. They swayed back and forth in their seat, digging their fingernails into the palm of their hands until they could feel blood. 

Dan shot their hand into the air, bouncing their knee rapidly, still gasping for some desperate oxygen. Professor Ansari, who was one of the invigilators on the exam, looked up from where she was handing another student an extra slip of paper. She was immediately aware of the situation, her dark eyes locking with Dan’s watery ones. 

She was by their desk in less than a second. 

“Howell, what’s wrong? Is this a panic attack?” she asked, bending down so that only Dan could hear her speaking. Her quiet, calm voice was somewhat comforting to Dan’s chaotic mind, a familiar comfort. Dan nodded stiffly.

“I-I finished m-my exam, but I c-can’t breathe and m-my head hurts a l-lot,” they muttered, feeling wet hot tears rolling down their cheeks. 

Professor Ansari nodded and said, “You’re allowed a toilet break. I’ll escort you to the hospital wing. You don't look so great.” Dan nodded again, coughing out a horribly stifled sob.

 As they stumbled to their feet; they could feel all eyes on them, watching them shuffle through the aisle, behind Professor Ansari. Their white shirt was already getting soaked in tears and the heaving sighs were a dead giveaway to the rest of the hall what was happening. 

Once they reached the main entrance hall, it was as if their body entirely gave up on carrying them. Their knees buckled and, letting out another whimper, Dan landed in a sobbing heap on the floor. Their body shook violently with sobs and they heard the door to the hall open and close behind them. 

Less than a minute later, Dan heard whispers and then a warm hand on their shoulder. “Dan, Professor Hodgekins is going to get the matron, okay?” Professor Ansari’s familiar voice whispered. Dan nodded, their sobs making it too hard to reply with any form of words.

The hospital wing was silent as Dan and the matron, Linda, entered. She was guiding them by the crook of their arm as Dan continued to stumble over their breathing. Their sobbing had turned to silent tears, occasionally accompanied by a hiccup. 

“Why don't you sit down and I’ll make you some tea, yeah? What do you take?” Linda cooed, sliding a chair out next to one of the beds. “Do you take milk?” A nod. “Any sugar?” A nod and two fingers held up. 

Linda disappeared inside her office to start making her tea, leaving Dan alone in the deafening silence of the hospital wing. They looked around at all of the beds, distantly aware of their surroundings. They just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep forever. They were seriously considering jumping out of the window across from them, a desperate and futile attempt to escape the hell of existence and stress.

The matron returned a few minutes later, carrying a pale white mug with pale steam rising above it. She handed the cup to Dan, whose fingers were still trembling. “Alright, you look as if you should lie down for a bit, darling. Do you want to do that or go down for lunch, which is in half an hour?”

Dan took a tiny sip of the slightly too pale tea, burning the back of their throat. “C-can I just g-go to sleep?” they stammered, holding the warm cup in their palms. 

Linda nodded, fixing Dan with a soft, understanding smile. “Would you like to stay here or go to your dorm?” she asked, tilting her head sideways. 

“My room, please,” they said immediately.

“Sounds like a plan.” 

—

Phil and Dan were sitting side by side in their Sexuality Studies class. Professor Castano was explaining the different countries which made it illegal to be gay. 

Phil was busy watching the board intently, his hand moving swiftly across the paper as he took notes for the upcoming exam. He kept shaking his head every time another country came up with more inhumane ways to “deal with” homosexuality. Beside him, Dan’s notetaking was beginning to slow down significantly. 

Their hand, which had been moving almost constantly, occasionally bumping Phil’s arm, was gradually slowing to almost a stop. As their writing slowed, the faint, slow bounce of their knee sped up. Phil tried to pay attention to what his teacher was saying about Russia, but he was too busy worrying about Dan. 

Phil had seen Dan in their panic attacks enough to know that they were on the brink of one. They could crop up at any time, coming on slowly, subtly, quietly, in an instant. One minute they would be fine and in a split second, tears would be rolling down their cheeks and soaking their shirt.

Dan dropped their pencil, staring off into middle distance as they fell into a spiral of thoughts. A frenzy of panic and an explosion of doubt filled their mind like a faucet. They could feel the sweat building up in their palms, which they so wanted to dig their fingernails into. They were trying to stop the habit, but it was proving to be hard, their fingers twitching against their palm. 

Phil looked around the room quickly, flicking his fringe out of his face. Warily, Phil moved his hand to place delicately onto Dan’s knee to stop its erratic shaking. 

As Dan tumbled into oblivion, their thoughts twisting eternally, they felt a weight on their knee out of nowhere. Mentally shaking themself out of their thoughts, Dan looked sideways at Phil. They felt their cheeks pepper bright scarlet as they realised Phil had his hand on their knee. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” they whispered, looking sideways at their crush. 

Phil looked back at them, a soft glint in his bright blue eyes. “You were bouncing your knee, so I thought this might help,” he replied at a low whisper. Dan rolled their eyes and looked up at the board again. “Are you okay?” he added, looking sideways again. 

Dan bobbed their head up and down. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks,” they replied breathlessly. “You don't need to keep your hand there anymore. I’m fine, Phil,” Dan added, smiling down at Phil’s splayed hand on their knee.

Phil kept his hand there for the rest of the lesson. 


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of violence and the death of a minor character

“Wait, so are you saying you want help picking an outfit for your date?” Dan was pacing in their bedroom while Louise, Rhea and Zoe sat around the room. Dan confronted their friends during lunch that day, desperate for some help with their upcoming date with Phil. 

Louise was thrilled to bits, sitting in Dan’s desk chair with her feet up on their desk. Zoe was sprawled out on Dan’s bed, texting someone on her phone and smiling. Rhea, meanwhile, was sitting with her legs crossed at the foot of the bed, watching Dan pacing. 

“I think I wanna wear a skirt, but I don't know. Would that be too much?” Dan was saying, their nerves apparent in their every move. “It's our first date. It has to be perfect,” they continued, running their fingers through their hair. 

Louise put her feet on the ground and shuffled past Dan as they paced, opening one of the drawers to ferret around inside. She tossed a few garments over her shoulder, which landed on Rhea’s head. 

“Hey! Rude!” she whined, pulling the black garment off of her face to land on Zoe’s knee. She held up the black denim material in front of her, tilting her head inquisitively. “Skinny jeans?” she questioned, looking up at Louise. 

She nodded. “Well, we gotta start _somewhere_ ,” she replied shortly, turning back to the drawer and rifling around some more. Dan stopped pacing and clambered onto Phil’s bed, lying on their back against the pillows-although it couldn't really be counted as _just_  Phil’s anymore-placing a pillow on their lap. They watched Louise searching their drawers. 

She tossed back a few t-shirts of several colours, all being caught to some degree in Rhea’s hand. Zoe was still typing away furiously on her phone, a pale blush to her cheeks. Louise looked over at her friend, sighing and dropping her posture. 

“Zoe, are you seriously texting Alfie? Right now?” she asked, giving Zoe a distinct “Mum face”. She was the designated mum of their friend group, always the first to tell people off for being stupid and giving people looks similar to annoyed mothers’. 

Zoe looked up, raising her eyebrows. “What? He’s a sweetheart, what do you expect?” she said, her eyes practically glazed over with fondness and admiration. 

Dan leaned over the gap between the two beds and swiped the phone out of Zoe's hands before she could protest. “Isn't Alfie that guy from the year below? He’s a Fire student, isn't he?” Dan clarified, scrolling through their text conversation. “Woah, a _lot_  of flirting going on here, missy,” they exclaimed, smirking and moving away from Zoe’s demanding reach as she nearly fell off the bed. 

“Give that back, Daniel Howell!” she whined, jumping out of bed and onto Phil’s. Dan rolled away, giggling loudly and running around the bed, hurrying into the toilet. The door locked with a satisfying _c_ _lick_  which sounded around the small room. Moments later, Zoe’s fists could be heard banging on the door. “Come on, give me my phone, asshole!” she whined, voice high and irritable. 

Dan chuckled dryly. “You can have your phone back as soon as you help me pick an outfit for my date!” they replied, shouting from the other side of the door. “And don't give me that crap about him not liking you or something if you don't reply. Assuming how many sexy pics I can see here, I’m pretty sure he’s interested.” 

“Daniel!” They could practically hear her scowling. 

“I will give you your phone as soon as you help me pick an outfit, okay?” 

Zoe could be heard grumbling from the other side of the door. She sighed exasperatedly and then said, “Okay, fine!” Dan nodded to themself and opened the bathroom door again. 

“Great, so now let's get to work!” 

—

When Phil came down the stairs a few days later to meet Dan, they were surprised, yet happy, to see them wearing a skirt again. It was a white cheerleader-type skirt, which they paired with a lace black shirt, a pair of thigh high black socks and their usual black converses. 

Phil felt entirely under dressed in his regular black skinny jeans, a teal button down and a black bow tie. He subconsciously fixed his fringe as he made his way down the steps where Dan was pacing. 

Dan looked up when they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. They felt their pupils dilate and their heart beat excitedly in their chest. “Well, don't you look very handsome, Philip Lester?” they commented, grinning up at Phil as he made his way down the last few stairs. 

Phil chuckled, shaking his head. “I could say the same about you, too,” he replied, stopping just in front of them. Pulling Dan into a hug, he whispered, “You look gorgeous, Dan.” Dan’s cheeks were littered with scarlet as they stepped back, goosebumps forming on their neck from Phil breathing in their ear. 

“Thanks,” they replied quietly, looking down at their feet and fixing their white skirt. They hoped it wasn't too short for their gangly long legs. 

Phil reached out his hand for Dan to take, which they obliged, and said, “Shall we get going?” Dan nodded vigorously, smiling shyly, cheeks still coated with a blush. 

Phil pushed open the massive front doors and they stepped into the early May air. There was a pleasant breeze, which ruffled their hair as it whistled around them. Phil, having no idea of where they were going, followed Dan down the front steps. They strolled down towards the path leading to the train station, their footsteps squelching from the previous day’s rain. 

“So, where are we going?” Phil asked as they started trekking down the pathway. 

“You’ll see. We’re not going far,” they replied, pulling Phil down the pebbly road. Phil frowned, wishing he knew where they were going. “How was your English exam yesterday? I forgot to ask,” Phil said after a long yet comfortable silence. 

Dan shrugged. “I didn't have a mental breakdown this time, so that's good,” they replied, only partially joking. “What about you? Did you find the essay hard?” they added, pushing aside a low hanging branch which they nearly walked into. Curse their abnormal height. 

“I mean, it was certainly a long essay, but it wasn't too bad. I like English,” he replied, smirking as Dan tried to push aside a branch in their way. “Are you nervous about the Maths ones? I am,” he asked, looking sideways at them. 

Dan rolled their eyes. “No shit, Sherlock,” they replied sarcastically, “Me? Nervous? When does _that_  happen?” They smirked, continuing down the track. “Can we talk about something else? If I wanted to spend my first date talking about my exams, I would have dated a teacher.” 

Phil giggled at Dan’s joke. “Yeah, sure. I was just trying to make some kind of conversation, you know?” Dan nodded. Next, they moved onto talking about an anime tv show they both liked. 

They had only been walking for a few minutes when Dan suddenly stopped, nearly making Phil trip over and fall in surprise. They turned sharply, still holding Phil’s hand, their fingers intertwined together. “Come on, I know somewhere quiet we can go before our dinner reservation,” they said, pulling Phil behind them. 

They climbed over a small log and started into the depths of the labyrinth of trees and branches. All sound was muffled around them, only their footsteps in the leaves present anymore. It was almost _too_  quiet for Phil. 

So, he struck up another conversation about Attack On Titan. 

A few minutes later, both of them laughing at an absurd joke Phil told, Phil noticed a soft trickling sound like water over stones. He stopped mid-laugh to say, “What’s that sound? Is that a stream?” 

Dan nodded and they made their way around another bend to find a clearing in the trees. There was a vast, clear lake next to a small stream which led off to it. The water was mostly still, completely surrounded by a stone covered beach. Phil’s eyes widened as he looked around at the magnificent scene. 

He could hear birds chirping happily again and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. There were a few ducks sitting on the water together, swimming around near the other side of the lake. The water, which was a bluish-grey, moved quietly over the rocks, swaying back and forth around their ankles. 

Phil was speechless, Dan could tell. They grinned to themself as Phil looked around with a childlike wonder, crystal blue eyes gazing around, his mouth slightly ajar. He was still clutching Dan’s hand as he watched a couple of ducks paddling around, one of them ruffling its feathers. 

“Do you like it?” Dan asked after a few minutes. They wished they could have just let Phil continue to gape at the scene around them, but they wanted to talk to him again. 

Phil turned around to face them, looking like he had just been woken up from a perfect dream. He was practically glowing. “How did you find this place? It's beautiful,” he gushed, looking back around again. He turned back to Dan after a split second. “But not nearly as beautiful as you in this freaking skirt,” he added, letting go of Dan’s hand to wrap his arms around their waist, pulling them close. 

He thumbed the lace material of Dan’s shirt, looking down at it. It had long sleeves, which were shear and hung low on their shoulders. It showed off their collar bones and a couple of thin black straps. “Are you wearing a bra?” he asked suddenly, poking one of the straps, his voice hoarse. 

Dan blushed. “Possibly,” they replied to their feet, “Louise bought me some for Christmas and I thought this one would be nice, I guess.” They were rambling nervously now. “It's probably stupid, though. I don’t need one.” 

Phil shook his head, tilting Dan’s chin up with one of his hands. “You look beautiful, Dan. Don't worry,” he whispered, leaning forwards to kiss them. Dan filled the gap between them and pressed their chapped lips against Phil’s. 

It was a gentle, slow kiss which sent fireworks into Dan’s chest, however cliché that was. They wrapped their arms loosely around Phil’s neck as Phil held onto their hips, moving their mouths together. He swiped his tongue across Dan’s lower lip and Dan allowed entry. Their tongues pressed against each other, Phil’s searching around every bit of inside their mouth. 

Phil tasted like mint gum and strong coffee and it was intoxicating. Dan couldn't get enough of it, like it was an addiction. They fiddled with the metallic piercing on his lip as well, as if it was a game. 

Dan tasted like cherry soda and vanilla. Phil swore he could have eaten Dan right there if he hadn't needed to take a breath. When he tried to pull away, he found that they were stuck together again by tightly wound vines, blooming with red roses and coriander flowers. 

Giggling, Dan pulled Phil backwards so they could sit down on a smooth boulder. They untangled the vines slightly so they could sit next to each other, lacing their fingers together. Because the vines refused to completely disappear, they had to sit very close together, though neither of them was complaining. 

“That was intense,” Phil breathed, looking out at the water, listening to the constant drone of the trees swaying in the wind. Dan nodded. They were both still breathing heavily, trying to get their breath back after their make out session. 

“I don't mean to sound weird, but holy fuck, you taste good. Like mint and coffee. Maybe even chocolate,” Dan breathed out, cheeks splattered crimson. Their pupils were deep pools of black which swallowed the majority of their irises, their eyes wide with awe as they looked at the boy in front of them.

Phil chuckled, grinning sideways at Dan. “That's cause I had coffee and M&M’s earlier. I was chewing gum on my way down the stairs,” he replied. “And you don't taste so bad yourself. Did you drink cherry soda or something?” 

Dan giggled, throwing their head back. “Maybe. Wanna taste again to be sure?” They smiled almost seductively, their voice low, making Phil’s insides squirm. 

Without answering, Phil pulled Dan closer and reconnected their lips. Their lips smacked satisfyingly, weaving between each other as they pushed their tongues into each other’s mouths, both battling for some form of dominance. Phil was winning, pressing his tongue inside Dan’s mouth to feel around and taste even more of the cherry soda. Phil felt like he could get drunk on it. 

Dan sighed into the kiss, fingers weaving into Phil’s raven hair. They clambered into his lap, deepening the kiss and pushing their own tongue inside Phil’s mouth this time. They sucked lightly on Phil’s piercing, earning a low groan from the other. Phil’s hands flew to Dan’s waist, desperate to hold on to something, as if he might float away. Dan’s skirt was riding up slightly and Phil brushed a hand experimentally under their shirt. 

His hand was freezing on Dan’s back, sending chills down their spine and goosebumps on their skin. They couldn't manage to stifle the breathy moan as Phil’s other hand tucked under the waistband of their skirt, his tongue pushing into their mouth again. Phil grinned against their lips but continued to kiss them, pulling Dan as close to himself as possible. 

Suddenly, the silence filled only with their breathing was cut like a knife by the distant sound of screams. They pulled apart in an instant, looking around them. “Did you hear that?” Dan asked as Phil removed his roaming hands. 

Phil nodded. “It sounded like it was coming from the school,” he replied. They looked at each other, their eyes widening. “We have to go help,” Phil breathed, letting Dan scramble out of his lap. The vines were shrinking back into Phil, letting them step apart. 

Fixing their skirt, which was almost halfway up Dan’s torso now, Dan grabbed Phil’s hand and they started running in the direction they came from. “Are you sure you know the way back?” Phil asked anxiously, nearly tripping over a stump as they sprinted through the undergrowth. 

Dan didn't bother answering, simply nodding and pulling on his wrist. They sprinted through the low hanging branches, dodging trees and bushes, their footsteps loud and scratchy from the leaves. Phil was about to clarify again that they knew where they were going until they reached the pathway again. 

“Told you,” Dan said simply, turning and pulling him after them, still. Phil had a stitch in his side from all the running, but continued to follow, breathing heavily. Even Dan was breathing heavily. 

When they reached the school, Phil nearly fainted at the sight. The entire building was on fire and had several gaping holes in it as if there was an explosion somewhere. People were running around, screaming and trying to put out the fire. Phil saw a few people laying on the ground and he felt sick to his stomach. 

“What the fuck?” Dan exclaimed, letting go of Phil to run faster towards the school. Phil jogged after them, the stitch in his side getting worse every second. 

One of the huge front doors was lying off its hinges, partially down the steps. Phil stumbled past it as Dan hurried inside, past a few bodies that were lying haphazardly on the steps. 

Inside, the building was even worse. Hundreds of people were scattered around the floor and a staircase had collapsed on itself. The whole entrance hall was filled with thick black smoke and terrified screams. Dan turned down one of the corridors off to the side, clearly trying to find help of some sort. Phil followed shortly behind.

They rushed past other students that sprinted past, faces covered in soot and fear. There were fires cropping up all over the place, ranging from small fireplace-sized ones to forest fires. People were sprinting through the halls, screaming and crying and calling out for help.

Dan turned into the courtyard, which they rarely ever went into due to its high rate of popular students hanging out there most of the time. They pushed the door to the outside open and stumbled over the threshold. One side of the courtyard was completely collapsed, rubble all over the ground in a pile. The rubble had one of the largest fires on it, dotted with water students struggling to put it out. 

Dan started towards it, but Phil grabbed their wrist. “No, it's dangerous, Dan,” Phil stated, trying to pull them away from the clamour and chaos. Dan pulled out of his grip. 

“I have to help, Phil. I’m a water student, I have to try to help put it out,” Dan insisted, jogging over to the rubble. Phil started towards it, following after Dan. Before he could take even two steps, however, there was a colossal explosion and Phil felt himself fly backwards. 

He slammed into a wall of the courtyard, swearing loudly and landing in a heap on the stone ground. His head hit the concrete floor and his vision swam in front of him. 

Dan themself felt the explosion toss them into the air, along with the other students trying to help with the fire. Dan nearly broke their neck hitting the wall with their shoulder. They slid to the floor, blinking rapidly to try to see through the stars in front of their vision. 

“Phil? Phil? Phil, where are you?” they called, looming around. The courtyard, which was already in shambles, now had yet another pile of rubble as another wall had collapsed. Unfortunately, it blocked off the other side of the courtyard, where they entered. Phil must have been on the other side. 

Dan swore, turning and sprinting into the school again to try to get to Phil some other way. The other door to the courtyard was lying down in front of it, mostly shattered apart, wooden shards lying haphazardly. Dan stepped over it, heart hammering in their chest. They pushed past other students as they ran, trying not to throw up as they passed unconscious students covered in cuts and burns. 

“Phil? Phil! PHIL!” Dan screamed, trying to find him anywhere. They reached the entrance hall again and saw a familiar figure lying at the bottom of one of the collapsed staircases. “What the fuck?” they muttered, jogging over to the rubble of the stairs. 

Rhea. It was Rhea. They were lying haphazardly over the rubble, their hair slightly in their face. There was a deep gash in their forehead and they were bleeding profusely through their white t-shirt. “Rhea? Rhea, no. No, please! Get up, Rhea. _Please_ ,” they blurted, dropping to their knees next to them. 

They grabbed their wrist and desperately searched for a pulse. They were beginning to hyperventilate, tears streaming down their face when they found no pulse. “No! Rhea! No! You c-can’t b-be d-d-dead!” they sobbed, checking to see if they were breathing. “Come on, Rhea, come _on_.” 

They weren't bleeding anymore. 

“No! No, no! You c-can’t! _R-Rhea! Please!_ ” they screamed, shaking their limp body. Their tears were dropping onto Rhea, thinning the crimson ocean slightly. “ _Rhea! Please!_  Don't die on me, _please_!” they shrieked hysterically. 

They flinched horribly when they felt a hand on their shoulder. They looked up to see Nathan standing over them, a small cut on his forehead. “Dan, they’re gone. Come on,” he said, pulling Dan to their feet with difficulty. Dan was insistent on staying with Rhea. “Come on, we have water powers, we have to try to put out the fires,” he said, pulling Dan away by their wrist as they continued to howl.

They jogged up the undamaged staircase, past other running students. They eventually found a classroom that was on fire and pushed inside to find several others inside. Professor Ansari was joined by a few younger students, all pushing water out of their hands and onto the rather large fire. 

“Come on, we need as much help as we can get, you two,” Professor Ansari said, gesturing with her head for them to join. Dan and Nathan hurried to opposite sides of the fire, focusing their energy on the fire. Dan pushed the water with all their might and it showered the fire, along with the others. 

The fire was out within a minute. “Nice job, everyone. Let's go find another,” Professor Ansari announced, putting her hands at her side and starting towards the door. They all filed out of the room and around the corner. Nathan and Dan were right next to each other, looking around frantically. 

Meanwhile, Phil was in a state of hysteria. He was looking around frantically, calling out Dan’s name and limping horribly. Somehow, in the explosion, he hurt his leg badly and it was agony to walk on. “Dan! Dan, where are you?” he yelled, stumbling inside again. He nearly fell over a body which was lying over the entrance to the courtyard. 

Phil continued down the hall, yelling and crying for Dan. He ran past more students, a few that he recognised, and ran around the other side towards the maths corridor. He could hear screaming. “Dan? Dan! _Dan_!” he continued to shout, hiccoughing with sobs. He couldn't find Dan anywhere. 

“Phil! Phil, it's me, Thomas!” Phil turned at the familiar voice and found Thomas Sanders running over, looking relieved to see him. “Are you okay?” he asked, hugging Phil for a second in greeting. 

Phil shook his head. “I-I c-can’t find Dan anywhere,” he explained through sobs, “We got separated in an explosion and I d-don’t know where they are.” He wiped his face with the back of his now torn sleeve. 

“We’ll find them. Don't worry. Let’s go,” he replied, pulling Phil away by his wrist. They ran past the maths corridor, which had a fire at the end of it. 

Dan was in another classroom now, only accompanied by Nathan as they tried to put out a fire which started up in the Astronomy class. All of the telescopes were melting from the heat and the smoke was tarnishing the walls. The fire was out and they started onto the next place. 

There were significantly less fires now, as most aquatic people were dotted around, trying to put the fires out. Dan and Nathan reached a collapsed wall, which turned out to be the top of the courtyard’s collapsed wall. There was still a huge fire rumbling on the roof. “Come on, we have to put it out,” Dan mumbled, pulling Nathan’s sleeve. 

Carefully, Dan squatted down and hung their legs over the side of the hole in the wall. They lowered themself down until they were only about a foot above the roof, letting go and tumbling backwards on the slant. They shrieked, but managed to stop rolling just before they fell off the roof. Nathan jumped down next, stumbling but landing upright.

“Show off,” Dan grumbled, fixing their tarnished skirt and making their way carefully over to the fire. They recognised Zoe’s long dark hair as she too helped put out the fire, alongside Nikita, whose cornrows were now a bright bubblegum pink. “Zoe! Niki!” Dan called, running over to them.

“Dan! You’re here!” Zoe exclaimed, stopping her waterbending to hug them frantically. “Hi again, Nathan,” she added as Nathan caught up. “I thought you would still be on your date!” she commented. 

Dan shook their head. “We were still not there yet and we heard the screams from by the hidden lake,” they replied, facing the fire and starting to put it out with their water. “We were in the midst of making out, so that's unfortunate. Do you know where he is, by the way?” 

Zoe and Niki shook their heads, still putting out the fire. Other students and even a few of the teachers were there as well. “I lost him in the explosion that took out that wall over there,” they added, gesturing towards the other collapsed wall in the courtyard. 

The fire was definitely starting to shrink now with all the water shooting at it from every angle. Within ten minutes, it was only a puff of smoke rising into the air like thick, black smog. 

One of the teachers pulled out his phone and put it up to his ear. Nathan, Dan, Zoe and Niki were all standing, watching while the other students made their way off the roof together. The teacher put his phone back in his pocket and turned to the students left and the other teachers. “The rest of the fires are out, now. Everyone is to meet in the lunch hall where they're doing the first aid because there's more room,” he explained to the others. 

Dan and their friends scrambled down the wall, climbing down the pile of rubble. They stumbled a bit over a particularly large piece, but made their way down without tumbling down. Dan hopped down at the last few inches and followed Nathan inside the broken doorway. Dan was covered in blood. Their crisp white skirt was now covered in dirt, soot and a bloody handprint. Sighing, Dan continued towards the lunch hall. They pushed the door to the dining hall and walked into what looked like a massive war hospital. 

The tables were all against the wall, replaced by hundreds of cots filled with students and staff alike. Linda was marching around, checking on the injured. There were also some paramedics and staff members acting as nurses. At the far end of the hall, Dan noticed about 50 people lying on the ground. The deceased. 

Dan pushed between a couple of students talking to their sick friends and sprinted towards the bodies. They found Rhea easily, their bright pink hair peeking out of a blanket which had been draped over them as a makeshift body bag of sorts. 

“Rhea!” they half shouted, running over and tossing aside the blanket. They looked even paler now, their white t-shirt almost entirely red at this point. Their purple bracelet was torn, lying just under their arm. “Rhea! Rhea, why? Why?” they sobbed, immediately overcome with tears again. They clutched at their friend’s lifeless body, distressed cries echoing around the hall.

They felt sick to their stomach, forcing themself to put their friend down as a wave of nausea came over them. Covering their mouth with their hands, Dan crawled pathetically a few feet away from the bodies, hunching over and vomiting. They coughed and sputtered through tears, still heaving out the contents of their stomach. 

Phil stormed into the dining hall, looking around the sick and injured in a panic. Thomas was trying to keep up. “Dan? Dan? Has anyone seen Dan?” he called, weaving between people and beds alike. He found Zoe and Nathan next to a bed, looking worried and he felt his heart drop. 

He couldn't see whomever was in the bed, but he immediately assumed it was Dan. He pulled Thomas after him and they hurried over to Dan’s friends. Instead of Dan, however, it was Troye who was in the cot. His arm was bleeding badly and he looked paler than usual. “Have you guys seen Dan? I lost them in an explosion and I can't find them anywhere,” Phil asked, looking between the three friends. 

“They ran over there a second ago,” Nathan replied, pointing near the end of the hall. Phil thanked them and sprinted in the direction of the many deceased people. Thomas stayed back. 

“Dan! DAN!” he screamed when he noticed Dan hunching over near the wall, their white skirt easily noticeable. He weaved through the sea of bodies and reached Dan as they vomited again. He rubbed his hand up and down on Dan’s back in a comforting motion as Dan coughed and heaved, emptying their stomach until it was simply bile. 

Dan was weeping the entire time, their face bright red and covered in snot and tears. Finally, they finished throwing up. They were still hunched over and Phil finally noticed that they were covered in blood. 

“Dan. Dan, you're bleeding,” Phil breathed, helping Dan to their feet. His heart raced as he looked Dan up and down. Their skirt had a bloody handprint and their lace shirt was wet with more blood. 

Dan shook their head. “I-it’s n-not mine. It's m-my friend R-R-Rhea’s,” they whimpered. “I’m n-not hurt.” Phil heaved a sigh of relief and took this as a chance to pull Dan into his arms.

Dan snaked their arms around Phil’s waist and cried into his shirt. “I thought I lost you, Dan. I thought you were hurt,” Phil said, rubbing his hand up and down Dan’s back. “I’m so glad I found you. You have no idea,” he continued. Vines of mixed carnations bloomed around them, tying them together with the flowers of various types of love. 

Dan clutched the back of Phil’s shirt, most of their weight leaning on him. The carnations mixed with marigolds which tickled Phil’s arms. _The flowers of grief._  Phil pulled Dan’s chin up to face him, kissing their nose. “Come on, let's get back to the others. It's hardly enjoyable to be surrounded by dead people, babe,” Phil stated, retracting the vines and flowers with difficulty. They were always harder to get rid of when there was a lot of emotion. 

Dan clung to Phil’s arm as they started towards the other side of the hall. Dan couldn't help but notice that Phil had a pretty bad limp as he walked. “Troye!” they called when they noticed their friend’s platinum blonde hair while he lay in one of the many cots. They pulled Phil along with them. 

Troye was thankfully conscious. “Troye, what happened!” He was clutching one of his arms tightly, like it pained him. 

“There was an explosion and I got my arm caught under some rubble. I’m fine, though,” he replied, voice shaky from the obvious pain he was in. 

Dan pulled Phil away, to his confusion. “Dan, what are you doing?” 

“You have a limp,” they replied simply, trying to pull them over to one of the paramedics. They passed by Professor Fitzpatrick getting his leg bandaged up by one of the other teachers. 

“Dan, I’m fine. Honestly. It's just a sprain, I’m sure,” Phil insisted, stopping walking. “Come on, let’s go check on your friends, okay?” he added, putting his hand on Dan’s waist and turned him around to go back.

Dan sighed annoyedly but followed. They passed Phil’s friend Thomas as he talked to one of his other friends outside of Phil’s friend group. “Do you want to find your own friends? I can find mine on my own,” Dan suggested. 

“Are you sure? I can stay with you if you want,” Phil said, raising his eyebrows in concern. 

Dan shook their head, their fringe falling into their eyes. “I’ll be fine, don't worry. Go find your friends and I’ll see you later.” Phil agreed and pecked Dan’s lips, limping over to where he could see Dodie. Dan watched, stomach twisting with worry and forced themself to go over to their friends again. 


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: mentions of death, mild homophobia, references to violence, smut(finally)

The next morning, a memorial service was held for all the students and staff that were killed in the attack. The official number of deaths was at 96, but there were still searches going on. Dan and Phil had the unfortunate task of helping with these searches at six in the morning, due to being Head “Boys”. 

By 7:30, Dan had had two panic attacks from finding bodies and was absolutely exhausted, both emotionally and physically. They had to help one of the fire prefects in the year below, Ricky McDonald, with moving a bunch of rubble in the courtyard to find any people. They ended up finding a very badly hurt third year.

Dan promptly puked at the bottom of the pile of stones. 

As Dan helped to carry another body to where they were all being kept in the maths corridor, they noticed an almost as exhausted Phil helping Professor Smith carry a very small person up the stairs. Dan felt their heart drop knowing it was obviously a very young student. 

Phil, meanwhile, was trying his hardest not to have some sort of mental breakdown. In the last hour and a half, he had found three first years in piles of rubble. He was helping the head girl, Caitlin, with counting how many they had now when Dan and Ricky arrived, carrying yet another person. 

Dan helped Ricky to carefully place them on the ground, covering them with a white blanket. Phil watched with interest, noticing their distinctly wet shirt and puffy eyes. Phil honestly wasn't surprised at how hard this was for Dan. It was hard enough for Phil and none of his close friends had died. 

“How many are we at, now?” Dan asked, walking over to Phil and Caitlin as she wrote down another number. Their voice was quieter than usual and they weren’t looking up at anyone, instead choosing to inspect their shoes. 

“96. And seeing as it's almost eight, I think that’ll do for now,” she replied, putting her clipboard down at her side, “We should all get ready for the service and then meet in the entrance hall at 9:40.” 

Dan stepped over one of the blankets, reaching back for Phil’s hand, which Phil obliged. As soon as they were in the hall, Phil pulled Dan into a tight hug, resting his chin on their shoulder. Dan leaned into the hug, snaking their arms around Phil’s waist. 

“Are you okay? Your shirt’s wet,” Phil whispered, his chin bumping up and down as he kept it on Dan’s shoulder. 

Dan sniffled and pulled away from the embrace. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. This whole thing is just a bit stressful, you know?” Dan replied, looking down at their black converses still. “We should go get ready. For the service,” they added, starting down the hall. Phil jogged after them, snaking a protective arm around their waist and resting his head on Dan’s shoulder once he caught up.

At 9:40, Dan and Phil made their way down to the entrance hall. Caitlin and the Depute Head Girl, Bree were there already, dressed in simple black dresses. The other prefects in lower years were also there, minus a few, also dressed in black. 

Dan was dressed in a black button down and a pair of black dress trousers, while Phil opted for a white button down with a black tie and his dress trousers. He had also decided to take out his piercing for the time being. They made their way down the stairs holding hands, as usual, and used their unheld hands to wave at the prefects. 

Caitlin looked down at their hands as they appeared and then back at them. “Okay, so, we have to sit at the front with the headmaster. The head boy and girl will sit together on one side and the depute head boy and girl will sit on the other. It doesn't really matter where the prefects sit, we just need four on each side,” Caitlin explained, reading off of a piece of paper she had been given by one of the teachers. 

Dan wasn't too happy to be sitting with the entire school looking in their direction, but they followed the rest of the prefects towards their seats nonetheless. Before the rest of the school arrived, they gave Phil a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, stumbling over to their seat next to Bree. 

“Are you two dating?” Bree whispered as the school began to file in in a swarm of black clothes. Dan turned their head and looked right at Bree, raising their eyebrows in alarm. 

“I don't know, do you hold hands with and kiss your platonic friends?” they deadpanned, their face emotionless. Bree blushed, holding up her hands in mock surrender. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the headmaster’s seat, Phil and Caitlin were having a similar conversation. This conversation, however, was less sarcastic and more rude than anything. 

“You know, I don't give a fuck about you and Howell dating or anything, but do you _have_  to flaunt your relationship all the time?” Caitlin snapped, still looking ahead at the people entering./ Phil’s eyes widened, taken aback. “Excuse me?” he said, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. 

Caitlin laughed falsely, rolling her eyes. “You heard me, Lester,” she snapped, looking back at him finally, “Stop flirting and touching your little boyfriend so much. It's not homophobic, I just don't like to see PDA in general.” 

“Sorry, what? I’ve seen you frenching your stupid boyfriend, Jack, in the halls between classes about a hundred times,” Phil snapped, scowling darkly at the girl next to him. “Don’t act like it isn't homophobic, either. Because it is. If it was me and a girl, you’d be completely unfazed by it. But because it's a couple of males, you’re suddenly disgusted by 'PDA in general.’” Phil turned away from Caitlin after that, facing the school and crossing his arms over his chest and pressing his lips together. 

Once all the students and staff had made their way into the dining hall, Mrs. Birchwood strolled into the dining hall and sat primly in her seat. A stern looking man in a suit walked up to the podium and talked about grief and how it was all “God’s plan” before sitting back down in the front row. 

The headmaster stood up in the midst of the silence and stopped at the podium again. She tapped the mic a few times with a well polished nail, clearing her throat. It was all a show, in Dan’s opinion. “Students. Faculty. Staff. We are here today to honour the lives lost in yesterday’s unfortunate accident,” she drawled, her voice monotone and emotionless. 

“It was a tragedy which no one could have foreseen. The 96 lives that were lost will so sorely be missed by all,” she continued, pausing to read the number of casualties. Dan tightened their lips together, narrowing their eyes suspiciously at their headmaster. She went on to list all of the names of the people who had died and called for a moment of silence. 

The hall was almost disconcertingly quiet. Dan swallowed rigidly, folding their hands delicately in their lap. A single tear rolled down their right cheek and landed on their hand. They thought of Rhea and their bleeding, cold form when they found them at the bottom of the stairs. They thought of searching for hours and finding the bodies of innocent people who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“Right, we must never forget the people that were killed in yesterday’s tragedy,” she continued once the moment of silence was over, “For, if we were to forget those who fought so hard for their lives, they will have died in vain.

“It will be a long road to getting over these tragic deaths, one with many twists and turns and bumps. But however tough the ride is, we must take that journey in order for us to be truly happy. We must take that journey in order for their memories to truly live on.

“In the end, it will be worth the troubles.” Mrs. Birchwood finished her spewing of clichés with a single nod of her head. She turned around and walked back to her seat, dropping into it lightly and straightening her skirt. Dan watched her with an air of suspicion, narrowing their golden brown eyes and pursing their lips together. 

Another speaker stepped up to the rostrum next and started going on about healing. Dan replayed the headmaster’s emotionless speech over and over and over again in their head. They felt sick to their stomach, as if the suspicion was going to their gut. It twisted and somersaulted inside of them like a carousel that had no end. Dan focused on their breathing as the speaker finished their own speech. 

The memorial service ended with the school choir singing Amazing Grace while the headmaster exited the hall swiftly, her black dress flicking behind her. As soon as the choir finished, the pupils and staff were allowed to leave. Dan and the rest of the prefects stayed in their seats as the rest of the school made their way out. 

As soon as the great metal doors shut behind the last person, Dan leapt out of their seat, hurrying down the aisle between thousands of rows and rows of seats. “Dan! Dan, wait up!” Phil called, jogging down the aisle towards Dan. Dan ignored him and kicked the door open, trying to hold their breath as they were hit with the usual wave of nausea. 

Dan looked over at the rubble where they found Rhea, images of their friend’s body flashing in their mind like cruel photographs etched onto the backs of their eyelids. They doubled over as the queasiness increased, coughing and sputtering before finally plopping to their knees as they felt the familiar acidic burn in the back of their throat.

“Dan, baby. I’ve got you, sweetheart, don't worry,” Phil cooed, dropping onto the floor behind them and rubbing their back as Dan choked out the disgusting mix of bile and stomach acid; they hadn't eaten since lunch time the previous day and had already emptied themself of that yesterday. 

Dan finally stopped retching, breathing heavily as if it was exhausting. They turned around on the floor and threw their arms around Phil’s neck. “It's okay, Dan. It's okay. You’re alright,” Phil consoled, still rubbing circles on Dan’s back. 

—

Dinner that evening was rather interesting. Dan was absolutely adamant on keeping Phil by their side, clutching his hand constantly. So, Phil naturally sat with Dan and their friends that evening. 

However, they weren't the only ones changing up the seating arrangement. Thomas Sanders came over about five minutes into dinner and asked to sit down. He and Rhea had hit it off in Sexuality Studies and History of the Elements and he was obviously struggling with their death. 

Eventually, Phil’s friends moved their table right next to their’s and the two groups merged into one. Those who had classes together talked about that, while others found common interests among each other. Dan was in the midst of talking to Phil’s friend Chris about Doctor Who when they felt something touch their knee. 

Dan turned and looked to find Phil’s hand sitting on their joint while he continued a conversation with Dodie. Dan cleared their throat, trying to hide the blush forming on their cheeks and turned back to Chris. 

“I mean, David Tennant was easily the best doctor. Him and Rose Tyler? They were perfect for each other—,” Dan was saying a few minutes later when they felt Phil’s hand move. But instead of removing his hand from Dan’s leg, he simply moved his hand back a few inches up Dan’s thigh.

Dan’s cheeks flushed a violent shade of crimson and they had trouble maintaining eye contact with Chris anymore. Seemingly unperturbed by Dan’s sudden change in attitude, Chris went on about Matt Smith while Dan tried to nod along. 

Meanwhile, Phil moved his hand almost halfway up Dan's thigh, moving it closer to their inner thigh. Dan gulped, biting their lip as Chris explained the most important parts of the Eleventh Doctor’s personality. “Who would you say is your favourite companion?” Dan blurted as Phil moved his hand even farther so that it was only a few inches from Dan’s crotch, his knuckles tickling Dan’s other leg. 

Chris looked mildly taken aback for a second before going into a rapport about Donna Noble. Phil was grinning to himself as he listened to Dodie and PJ talking about some unknown topic, keeping his hand in between Dan’s legs. He noticed, rather proudly, that they were supporting a hard on, their actions stiff and unnatural as they tried to talk to Chris. 

Finally, an hour later, everyone started getting up to go to bed. Phil stood up first, removing his hand from between Dan’s legs. “Uh, it was nice talking to you, Chris. It was nice to have someone to fangirl about Doctor Who with,” Dan said stiffly, waving goodbye to Chris as he joined PJ to go up to their room. 

Dan stood up slowly, pushing their chair under the table robotically, cautiously before sidling up next to Phil again. Phil wrapped his arm around Dan’s waist, his hand placed on their lower back. “See you guys later,” Dan said, waving goodbye to their friends and following Phil out of the hall and up the stairs.

As soon as Dan unlocked the bedroom door, closing it behind them, Phil had them pressed up against it, pinning Dan’s arms over their head. Dan dropped their keys on the ground and looked straight into Phil’s hungry blue eyes. “Kiss me,” they breathed, pupils dilated significantly. 

Phil obliged, pressing his tongue inside Dan’s mouth as usual. Dan melted into the kiss, pulling their arms free and grabbing the back of Phil’s neck to pull him as close as possible. Phil pulled away to breathe for a moment, giving Dan a chance to swipe their tongue along Phil’s lower lip, toying with the silver ring. They pushed their tongue inside Phil’s mouth, exploring the warm cavity. 

They moaned against the door as Phil sucked lightly on Dan’s tongue in his mouth, slamming back against the wood. Dan’s hands flew up to the collar of Phil’s button down and they frantically unbuttoned it, all the while keeping their lips locked together. Phil shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and tossed it away behind him in a heap on the floor. He toed off his sneakers and stepped backwards until his calves hit his bed. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Dan onto his lap, where they instantly wrapped their legs around his waist. Dan whined into the kiss as Phil’s hand pressed against their jeans, palming their arousal. Dan ground into him, desperate for friction. 

Dan pulled away from the kiss finally, breathing heavily, along with Phil. There were vines wrapping them together, as usual, blooming white and pink coriander flowers. “Are you sure you want this?” Dan asked, leaning their forehead against Phil’s. 

Phil chuckled, grinding his hips to make Dan moan again. “Do you know what these flowers signify, Dan?” he asked, voice low and breathy. He plucked a petal off of a flower and let it fall to the ground. Dan shook their head. “They’re coriander flowers. Flowers of lust,” he explained simply, pressing their lips against Dan’s again. “Are you sure, Dan?” he clarified, leaning his forehead against Dan’s. 

Dan nodded, grabbing Phil’s cheeks in their hands and kissing them again. The kiss didn't last long as Dan pulled away again, crawling backwards off of Phil’s lap and onto the floor. They looked up through their lashes, biting their lip and making eye contact with Phil’s own arousal. 

They reached out and flicked open the button of Phil’s jeans, sliding the zipper down agonisingly slowly. Phil leaned back on the heels of his hands, letting Dan pull his jeans down to his ankles, leaving him only in a pair of white underwear. Dan slipped their fingers under the waistband of his pants, letting them snap back with a satisfying _smack_. 

“Please, Dan, please. Just do it,” Phil breathed, arching his back and looking up at the ceiling. Dan chuckled dryly and pulled on Phil’s pants again, pulling them off and discarding them on the floor, next to his black jeans and button down. 

“Holy fuck,” Dan breathed as Phil’s erection was out. Dan’s jeans tightened around them and they pulled Phil closer to the edge of the bed. “Jesus fucking _Christ._  You didn't say you were _that_  size!” Dan exclaimed, blushing profusely and looking up at Phil through heavy-lidded brown eyes. 

Phil laughed hollowly, biting his lip. “You never asked,” he replied cheekily. Dan shook their head, rolling their eyes.

They reached out slowly and held onto Phil’s hard on. Phil stuttered forwards on the bed, gripping the sheets. Dan moved their head so that their mouth was almost touching Phil. “May I?” they asked, batting their eyelashes tantalisingly. Phil, unable to speak anymore, nodded vigorously. 

Dan took the tip of Phil in their mouth, still maintaining eye contact. Phil’s stomach twisted at the sight of Dan’s lips on his arousal, golden brown eyes blinking up at him. Experimentally, Dan sucked on the tip, their tongue swiping across the slit and Phil gasped out loud, his hand flying to grab Dan’s hair. Dan smiled, flicking their tongue over the slit again and moving it deeper into their mouth, almost halfway now.

Phil tugged lightly on Dan’s hair, producing a soft, surprised gasp from them. Dan pulled back and moaned, “Again. Oh, God. _Do that again_.” There was a long, thin line of saliva leading from Dan’s lower lip to Phil’s tip and he felt his abdomen clench with arousal at the simple sight. Phil watched their mouth return to around his arousal, tugging harder on their hair. Dan moaned around him, the vibration making Phil himself groan quietly. 

Dan moved their head back and forth on Phil’s length, letting Phil control them. They licked up the side of him, using the dripping precum as a lubricant. Phil gasped and shuddered as Dan sped up, sucking lightly on the tip and nearly gagging on the length as they tried to take in even more. “Oh, Jesus, fuck. Just come _here_ ,” Phil gasped, pulling Dan up to his chest and falling back with them laying on top of him.

Phil’s hand found Dan’s zipper, pulling it down swiftly and unbuttoning it. “Wait,” Dan breathed, sitting up. Phil moved his hand away instantly. “I just wanna warn you that I’m, uh, not exactly wearing boxers,” they explained, cheeks flushed scarlet. 

Phil raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “You’ll see soon enough. I just–I just thought I should warn you,” they said, pulling off their black t-shirt and tossing it behind them. They reconnected their lips again. Phil shrugged and pulled Dan’s jeans off. They kicked them off their legs, kissing him harder now. 

Whatever Dan was wearing was scratchy against his body as Dan ground their hips into Phil’s thigh. Phil looked down curiously and nearly came at the sight. “You’re wearing /lace panties?/” he breathed, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Their crystal irises were almost swallowed up by Phil’s aroused, enlarged pupils.

Dan nodded, resting their forehead on Phil’s chest in an attempt to hide their face. 

“It's weird, I know,” Dan mumbled, their cheeks a furious shade of pink; they were warmer than a sauna as well. 

Phil shook his head, pulling Dan’s face up to look at him. “No, _Jesus Christ_ , no,” he breathed. “It's not weird. It's sexy as hell.” Dan giggled, which quickly turned into a moan as Phil palmed them through their lacy underwear. 

Dan whimpered, rolling their hips on Phil's hand. Dan’s lips attacked Phil’s neck as they sucked on his milky white skin, grinning at the surprised moan that Phil made as a result. Phil slipped his hand below the fabric, touching Dan’s ever hardening cock with a cool hand. Dan bucked forward, almost biting Phil as they attempted to leave another mark on his neck. 

Phil used both hands to slowly slide the panties off, flicking them aside. He gazed down at Dan’s own arousal, biting his lower lip as his pupils dilated again. He pulled Dan closer again, nipping at their neck and leaving a bright hickey in place of his lips. Dan moaned lowly, throwing their head back and shutting their eyes. 

Dan pulled off of Phil for a second, opening their bedside drawer and shuffling around for a few seconds. They returned, lube and condom in hand, and sat back on Phil’s thighs. Phil took the bottle from their hands while Dan got comfortable on his outstretched legs. 

“Do you want to use this?” Dan asked, holding the silver packet between his pointer and middle finger and raising their eyebrows. 

Phil pressed his lips desperately to Dan’s and replied breathlessly against their mouth. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m clean.” He bit Dan’s bottom lip lightly, tugging it back to let it pop back in place. “Do you?”

Dan shook their head, tossing the packet over their shoulder. “Me neither.” 

Phil looked back down at the bottle for a second as he popped the lid open, unable to keep the laugh that escaped his lips. “Cherry flavoured? Really? I hope this wasn't what made you taste like cherries the other day,” Phil joked, shaking his head and grinning down at his lap. 

“Shut up. I like cherries, okay?” 

Phil squeezed the cool liquid onto his fingers, the intoxicating scent of cherries filling his lungs. He pushed Dan backwards using his free hand so that they laid down on their back, opening their legs for Phil. Phil slowly inserted one of his fingers, holding it in place while Dan got used to the unfamiliar feeling of something inside of them. 

Dan pressed back against Phil’s digit, their body craving movement. Phil complied and began moving his finger back and forth, all the while Dan let out loud, breathy moans. Soon enough, he added a second finger, pushing his fingers in and out and scissoring every few. Dan was gripping the white sheets tightly, hands curled into fists. 

Phil studied Dan’s face, still moving his fingers back and forth. Dan’s face was screwed up and there was already sweat beading on their forehead. Even red faced and sweating, Phil thought Dan looked beautiful.

Phil added a third finger soon after, leaning over Dan to suck another purple love bite on their neck and then their collar bone. His metal piercing sent Dan on edge as it brushed against their skin. Phil bent his finger just so, hitting Dan’s prostate. It sent a spark, an explosion of electricity through their body, making them scream Phil’s name. 

Phil grinned, removing his fingers from inside of Dan. Dan whimpered, sitting up, their curly brown hair in a mess. Dan pulled Phil closer by the back of his neck, kissing him roughly and reaching blindly around for the lube again. They poured the fruity smelling liquid onto their fingers, their hand twisting around Phil’s length to coat it in a thick layer of the lubricant. / Dan licked the cherry lube from his fingers suggestively and lowered themself down until they were just above Phil’s cock, centring the tip on their hole. They pushed down on his length, gasping out breathy moans while Phil gripped their hips to support them. Dan continued to lower themself until they had taken in his entire length. 

“You okay?” Phil asked as Dan shimmied their hips to get used to the feeling of being full. Dan nodded, pressing a soft, wet kiss on Phil’s jawline. Phil turned his head to make it easier for Dan to suck lightly at his jaw, grunting quietly. 

Dan rolled their hips, mouth hanging open in a silent, breathy moan. Phil gripped their hips tightly, his blunt nails leaving crescents in their tan hipbones. Dan trailed their fingers around Phil’s chest, gazing down at his pale and frankly beautiful chest. 

Dan rose up on their knees until only the tip of Phil’s penis was inside of them before dropping down again, mewling loudly, voice higher by several octaves. Phil grunted silently, shutting his eyes as Dan repeated the action again, whining in pleasure. 

Phil flipped them over to get a better angle, thrusting himself in and out of Dan while both of them continued moaning and panting in a duet of sound. Phil’s hips jerked and caused him to hit Dan’s prostate, sending them over the edge and making them scream. 

“ _Phil!_  Fuck, fuck, oh _God,_ ” Dan chanted, pushing back against Phil’s dick. They threw their head back, their skin slamming together to hit the spot again. “Ugh, fuck, Phil. I’m g-gonna–” Dan whimpered, digging their nails into Phil’s chest. 

Phil nodded, panting and rutting his hips again. He reached down between them and wrapped his fingers around Dan’s length, using the dripping precum as a lubricant. He barely pulled three times, flicking his thumb over the slit, before Dan came all over their own chest, chanting his name over and over again. 

Dan shut their eyes, twitching and panting while Phil rode out his own orgasm. Phil came within seconds, deep inside of Dan with a low, breathy groan. Gasping, Phil carefully pulled out of Dan who whimpered slightly. 

They laid there together in silence, trying to catch their breath, limbs tangled up and becoming surrounded by vines of red carnations. Phil reached around for some tissues to wipe up the mess they had made and shuffled around until they were both under the crisp duvet.

Dan giggled quietly, looking back at Phil’s bed. “Uma Thurman just watched us have sex,” they remarked, grinning like a child. 


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: Minor character death, islamophobia

The covers were soft and cozy and Phil's chest was warm and comforting. Dan nuzzled into his chest, taking a deep breath in. He smelled like fruity body wash and cheap shampoo and Dan couldn't get enough of it. 

“Did you just smell me?” Phil asked, looking down at Dan lying on his bare chest. They were both back in their underwear again, but decided against their shirts for now. / Dan shrugged, shamelessly taking another whiff. “Yeah, so? You smell nice,” they replied, looking up at Phil with wide brown eyes, their eyelashes acting like butterflies as they blinked almost flirtatiously.

Phil poked Dan’s nose and leaned forward, sniffing them exaggeratedly. _They_  smelled vaguely like a musky cologne of some expensive quality and cherries. Always cherries. “So do you, so I guess we're even,” Phil replied, giggling and poking his tongue between his teeth.

They were quiet for awhile, only the sounds of their content breathing filling the air. Phil almost thought Dan might have fallen asleep when they suddenly sat up, biting their lip in a nervous fashion. They were refusing to make eye contact anymore, instead looking down at Phil’s abdomen. 

“What’s up? What's on your mind?” Phil asked, tilting Dan’s chin to look at him again. He sat up on the heels of his hands to get closer, rubbing Dan’s back a few times.

Dan shrugged, bowing their head. “I have a bad feeling about today,” they admitted, finally looking back at Phil, cheeks flushed violently. 

“I mean, I can understand that. You lost a close friend, so it must be hard t–” 

Dan cut him off and snapped, “Not about Rhea. I mean, I’m upset about that as well, but I’m talking about the funeral thing.” Realising they had snapped at Phil, Dan moved off of his lap and swung their legs over the side of the bed, hunching over.

Phil clambered off of Dan’s bed and onto his own, facing Dan. “What about the funeral? Did something happen?” Phil asked, his voice laced with concern. 

Dan shook their head, a single curl falling into their face. “Not exactly. It was mainly the speech that Headmaster Birchwood gave to the school,” Dan replied, looking up again, flicking the hair out of their face with a jerk of the head. 

“I thought it was okay,” Phil admitted shyly, “I liked the metaphor about the bumpy road and stuff.” Dan hugged their knees to their chest, furrowing their brows in thought. 

“It was too cliché. She sounded so _bored_  with it,” Dan explained, “I don't know how to explain it but she just didn't seem to care that much. She had no real emotion in her voice and she just kept repeating herself.

“Didn't that bother you? Didn't you notice? She didn't give a fuck about those people that died.” Dan ran their fingers through their hair, messing their curls in stress. They dug their fingernails into their scalp, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling and then back at Phil, dropping their hands. “You're gonna think I’m crazy when I say this,” Dan began slowly, eyes begging Phil for belief, their eyebrows raised highly, “But I think she might have had something to do with it.” 

Phil scoffed, eyes widening. “What? But how? Why would she do that?” Phil sputtered, shaking his head in disbelief. “That doesn't make any sense. Just because she didn't seem to care that much doesn't mean she was the one that caused the accident!” Phil shook his head again, as if trying to get the idea out of his brain. 

Dan sighed, slightly exasperated. “I just have a bad feeling about her, okay? Even when I first /met/ her when I was 11 I thought there was something off about her,” Dan admitted, “There's something about her that I just can't seem to get.”

Phil ran his hands through his hair, standing up and pacing the floor, still limping slightly. “What would possibly be of advantage to her to terrorise a school? She's the bloody headmaster!” Phil was mostly talking to himself now, stalking back and forwards in front of the beds while his right leg refused to touch the ground too much. 

“Think about all of these 'accidents’ that we’ve had at the school over the years, Phil. There's been, what, three? Your friend PJ was hurt in one of them wasn't he?” Dan exclaimed, trying to talk Phil into believing them. They were desperate for someone to tell them their feelings weren't weird.

“There's been so many attacks since we’ve been here. Even _you_  were fucking hurt in the last one, Phil! I thought you would _die_! I was terrified, Phil!” Dan was shouting now, bordering on hysterical. They stood up and Phil stopped pacing to look back at them. “Phil, I thought you would die in that last fucking thing! I—I don't know w-what I would do with m-myself if you had been killed because of th-that.” Halfway through their tangent, Dan broke down into tears, clutching their hair as tears fell to the floor.

Phil closed the gap between them in an instant, crossing the room and pulling them into a hug. Phil shushed them as they cried into Phil’s shoulder, tears trailing down his bare chest and torso. He kissed the top of Dan’s head, rubbing his hand up and down to calm them down. 

Dan calmed down a few minutes later, sniffling and wiping their tear-soaked face. They really loathed how many tears they produced because of their water powers. “The other attacks have affected so many people, Phil. They can't all be isolated when they're so similar,” Dan continued, pulling away from Phil and sitting down, looking sideways at Phil, eyes filled with desperation and a glimmer of hope.

Phil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The only thing I can think of them having in common is that they all involved loads of fires all over the place. And some explosions,” Phil thought aloud, looking at a spot on the carpet as millions of thoughts scattered around his head.

Realisation seemed to flood Phil as he stood up suddenly, his eyes widening and his jaw gaping open. He threw his hands in the air and turned in a circle, tripping slightly over his feet. “What element is Birchwood?” he asked, whipping around to look at Dan again.

“Fire.”

Phil slapped his forehead, eyes widening again. “Think about it,” Phil said, pacing again, “Most of the attacks have all had the worst in the entrance hall and if you go up the stairs, what is _right_  at the top of those?” 

Dan jumped to their feet. “The headmaster’s office!” they exclaimed, “I mean, I already suspected her, but this makes it even more likely!” Dan grabbed Phil’s shoulders, grinning broadly and exclaiming, “Phil Lester, you’re a fucking genius!” 

—

The library was mostly silent the next day while Dan and Phil researched together near the back. It was Phil’s idea to look up facts about how fire people managed to firebend and whether it was possible to do it away from the actual fire.

Dan sighed loudly as they finished flicking through yet another book which didn't give them the answer. They slammed the leatherback book shut and shoved it aside, reaching for another book on the pile they had assembled. Phil looked up in surprise at Dan’s sudden outburst, arching an eyebrow suspiciously. 

“I still can't find anything. Why is it so hard to find this simple fact when it's not even that odd of a question?” Dan half whined, resting their chin on the table and looking up at Phil through their lashes. “It's bound to have been asked constantly, so _where is it?_ ”

Phil leaned back in his chair, looking up at the high ceiling contemplatively. Dan watched him curiously, sitting up again, tilting their head sideways. After a moment of thought, Phil sat back down properly, leaning his elbows on the table. “What if she hid them? She’d certainly have the power to get rid of any books that might raise suspicion around her,” Phil suggested, raising his eyebrows as if asking Dan for their opinion. 

Dan nodded and replied, “Yeah, that's a good idea.” Dan stood up from their seat and walked around the table, scanning the towering shelves, running their fingers along the spines. Turning back to look at Phil, they commented, “Is it just me or do these shelves look unusually empty?”

Phil looked up at the shelves, which did in fact look to have many more spaces between the books than usual. “That's not suspicious at all,” he drawled sarcastically, peering back at Dan. 

Phil clambered out of his chair and limped along the aisle, looking up and down the thousands of books. “Why would someone hide all of the fire books with actual information if they didn't have something that might incriminate them?” Phil wondered, “And I’m guessing the only person with the power to get rid of this many books is the headmaster.”

Dan watched Phil’s staggering walk suspiciously, knitting their eyebrows together. “I’m gonna go ask the librarian about it. Be right back,” Phil stated. Before Dan could protest, Phil hobbled out of view, in the direction of the librarian’s desk. 

The librarian was an ancient older woman with wispy grey hair and thick red glasses. She looked up from the book she was reading and smiled up at Phil. “How can I help you, dear?” she asked, folding her wrinkled hands primly on top of her book. 

“Uh, I was wondering whether it was possible for someone to remove a bunch of books on one topic,” Phil asked slowly, biting his lip, “Like, so that no one else can use them?” / The librarian sat up straighter in her seat, looking alarmed. “I don't suppose _you_  were planning on doing this?”

“Erm, not really. I was mainly just wondering who has the powers to keep a certain topic out of people’s use,” Phil explained, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He shuffled on his feet slightly, toeing the desk with his conversed foot.

“Well, to eliminate an entire topic could only be done by the headmaster, of course,” she replied, still looking suspiciously up at Phil, knitting her thin eyebrows. 

Phil’s eyes widened for a split second and he said, “Okay, thanks, ma’am!” They turned on their heels and hurried, with difficulty, back to where Dan was waiting. 

Dan was still sitting in their seat when Phil stumbled back, tossing a pencil back and forth in their hands. They looked up upon Phil’s return, watching him hobble back to his seat and drop down in front of them. They raised their eyebrows questioningly. 

“The librarian said that only the headmaster has the power to eliminate an entire topic of books,” Phil said, eyes wide.

“Again, not suspicious at all…”

—

Phil seemed to have a wide fascination with Dan’s tattoos which lined their sides. They were lying in Phil’s bed, still panting slightly from that afternoon’s previous activities and Phil was brushing his fingers over Dan’s tattoo of a storm cloud. It was slightly distorted in colour now, what with the amount of hickies Phil left on it. 

He leaned his head down again and left a chaste kiss to Dan’s side before returning to kissing Dan. Dan swiped their tongue over his piercing as usual, savouring the metallic taste. “We're such weirdos,” Dan mumbled, pulling away to rest their forehead against Phil's. 

Phil giggled. “How so?”

Dan tapped Phil’s lip and then guided Phil’s hands to their sides. “Probably the fact that you seem to have a tattoo fetish and I can't get enough of your goddamn lip piercing,” Dan replied with a smirk, pecking Phil’s lips again.

 “Have you _heard_  of some kinks people have, though? I think we're pretty normal in comparison,” Phil replied, rolling over to lie on Dan’s chest. He sighed, breath tickling the baby hairs on Dan’s chest. “For example, furries or people with a daddy kink,” Phil added cheekily, looking up at Dan and winking with both eyes. 

“One, you need to learn how to wink properly. That was just a weird blink,” Dan said, tapping his nose, “And two, I could have those kinks, you never know.” This time Dan winked, smirking and bowing their head to kiss Phil’s forehead.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, tangled up in each other’s limbs, the occasional peck on the lips or various patches of skin. Phil scooted back up to meet Dan’s face again, kissing their cheeks and nose. He fumbled around and laced their fingers together under the covers, squeezing lightly. 

“What are we?” Phil asked after a while, breaking the silence. He glanced over at Dan, who had their head tucked into the crevice between Phil’s neck and shoulder. They removed their face and peered back at Phil, furrowing their brows. “Like, are we dating?” Phil clarified, cheeks flushing scarlet.

Dan sat up properly, leaning on their hand for support. They brushed aside Phil’s fringe using their free hand. “I should think so. We’ve gone on a—well, tried to go on a date—and we’ve been tumbling around in bed and making out for over three months.”

Phil chuckled and said, “So what do I even call you? I can't exactly call you my boyfriend. Unless you want that for some reason.”

“Did you just assume my gender, you fucking flamingo?” Dan snapped jokingly, kissing Phil’s cheek. “Uh, I guess significant other? Date mate? Or you could just say we’re dating,” Dan suggested. 

Phil shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose so. It doesn't really matter so long as I can continue to do this–” In demonstration, Phil tilted his head down and sucked gently on Dan’s neck. They moved their head sideways to give him more access, biting their lip to suppress a moan. “Or this–” Phil snaked his hand down and groped Dan’s ass, making them squirm under his touch. 

“Yeah, well, at least I can do _this_ –” Dan countered, peppering kisses all over Phil’s face, except his lips. Phil whined and moved his head slightly, making Dan kiss his lips by accident. “Rude. I was teasing you, asshole,” Dan stated, pouting. Phil stuck his tongue out in retaliation. 

Dan flopped onto their back, turning their head to gaze at Phil “You taste like cherries,” Phil said with a smirk, a mischievous glint in his startling blue eyes. “You _always_  taste like cherries.” Dan groaned, swatting his arm playfully. “So did you, Lester,” Dan countered, sticking their tongue out. Dan turned over again, resting their cheek on Phil’s chest. Phil’s hand instantly moved up to toy with the messy curls, a habit he had picked up since he and Dan started sleeping together every night. In a non-sexual way, obviously. 

“I have to pee,” Phil announced suddenly, sitting up and making Dan fall forwards onto his legs, whining and sitting up as well. 

“Get me some water, too.” 

Phil grunted, swinging his legs over the other side of the bed, leaning back to kiss Dan on the cheek before standing. He hobbled slowly towards the toilet, spindles of pain shooting up his leg, sparking in his knee. 

Dan watched, furrowing their eyebrows anxiously. Phil returned a moment later, trying with futility to not spill the glass of water, which he handed over to Dan. He plopped down at the foot of the bed, scooting backwards until his back was flush with Dan’s chest. 

The fabric of Dan’s baby blue lacy panties scratched against Phil’s back, filling his head with delirium and comfortable familiarity. Dan sighed from behind him, pulling Phil from his daydreaming. 

Turning his neck to look up at Dan, Phil raised his eyebrows concernedly and asked, “You okay, love?” He scooted up a bit more, running his thumb over Dan’s bent knee. He bent up to kiss under their jaw lightly. 

Dan sighed again and replied, “It’s just–it’s just the fact that you’re still limping and it's been almost two weeks since the attack.” Dan bit their lip anxiously, looking down at the back of their boyfriend’s head. 

Phil rolled around to sit next to Dan properly, staring into their eyes. Dan swore they could go swimming in those crystal blue eyes. It would be like swimming in the sky. “I’m fine, Dan. Honestly,” Phil replied, pecking Dan’s lips. Dan pouted. “/I’m fine/,” he insisted, narrowing his eyes daringly.

Dan shook their head scowling. “Phil, I’m worried about that. It still hasn't healed. What did you even do?” 

Phil shrugged and said quietly, “In the explosion that separated us, I slammed against a wall and I landed weirdly on my leg.” He was fiddling with the fabric of his boxers, biting his bottom lip. “It's just a little one, anyway. I’m fine,” Phil repeated, looking back at them. 

“It's been two weeks, Phil! You need to see someone!” Dan exclaimed, running their fingers through their hair sharply. 

Phil groaned and clambered out of bed. “I’m _fine_ , Dan! Stop babying me! I’m not a fucking child!” he snapped, going over to his chest of drawers and pulling on a pair of jeans. He was still rifling through his drawers for a t-shirt. 

Dan climbed out of bed as well, standing with their arms crossed on their chest. “What are you doing?” they asked sternly, narrowing their eyes and furrowing their brows. / “I’m going for a walk. Or is that too much for me?”

Dan sighed, massaging their temples to counteract their coming migraine. Dan opened their mouth to reply, but Phil pulled on a pug T-shirt and pulled on his converses, half hobbling, half stomping to the door. “I’ll see you later,” he muttered, slamming the door shut behind him, making Dan flinch horribly.

Dan grumbled under their breath about trying to help and shuffled around Phil’s chest of drawers. Trying to even their breathing, Dan pulled on Phil’s bright green hoodie and crawled back under the covers, curling into an uneasy ball. 

—

Phil tried to stifle his whimpers as he trudged through the school hallways. It was nearing midnight, now, the only light in the halls made by the half moon peeking through windows. He hated arguing with Dan and the school’s dull and dead quiet atmosphere fit his mood perfectly.

He was nearing the Drama corridors when a soft noise broke the silence of the corridors. Looking around in the dim lighting, Phil shuffled silently in the direction of the noise. He froze: there it was again. It sounded like a whimper almost. Was someone crying?

All of the doors in the Drama hall were shut except one. Phil made his way over to that one where the noise returned, only louder this time. 

Voices. He could distinctly hear voices. 

Phil leaned on the wall, his leg hurting from walking on it so much, and listened closely to the quiet voices inside the classroom. “And so what if you know what I’m doing?” said one of the voices, their voice sharp and cold. It was deeply familiar, but Phil couldn't quite put his finger on who it was.

The next voice was even more recognisable. “I can stop you. I know it's been you all along and I can tell someone,” Professor Ansari’s voice replied coolly, her voice steady and calm. How did she always manage to do that? 

“Tell them what? Who’ll believe you?”

That voice. Phil knew that voice. His stomach dropped as soon as he heard it and he had to bite his shirt collar to keep from reacting aloud. 

Headmaster Birchwood.

Dan was right. They were _right_. 

“I’ll tell them all about your plans to get rid of all of the 'weakest’ students. Everyone will know all about your plans to discreetly get rid of all of the students unable to fight back against your attacks,” Professor Ansari replied. Phil could just about hear her sticking her chin up with certainty.

Phil’s eyes widened. Was that true? Headmaster Birchwood scoffed. “Ah, so you noticed? You figured out my plan,” she replied. There was a pause and Phil wondered what was going on. He could hardly believe his ears at what he was hearing. “But it's not like anyone would believe a terrorist’s word against an esteemed headmaster of a school,” she continued, her words making Phil's blood boil. How dare she call Professor Ansari that.

“In fact, people will think that _you_ were the one that did it and just want to cover it up with _my_ story!” the headmaster added, making Phil clench his fists at his side in increasing anger. He wasn't easily angered, but this was getting out of control. 

“How bloody dare you,” Professor Ansari snapped, close to boiling point. Literally. “I would never dare hurt anyone on this planet and you have killed almost a hundred innocent lives. /You’re/ the terrorist here!” Phil nodded in agreement. 

“Oh, but I’m not. I am simply trying to find the strongest students of the lot. I’m sort of _testing_ their strength,” Birchwood replied slowly, as if spelling it out to a small, stupid child, “I want the best of the best and what better way to find the most powerful students?” 

Professor Ansari blanched. “You sound like fucking _Hitler_ , you know that?” she remarked, voice cold and cutting.

“Anyway, even if they would believe your story, no one will ever find out,” Birchwood said cryptically. Her voice lowered and Phil had to scoot closer to hear her voice properly, clearly. / “And why’s that?” 

The older woman chuckled dryly, her laugh like sandpaper rubbing on skin. “Because I’m going to kill you,” she stated. Phil’s eyes widened. Before he could do anything, or before Professor Ansari could retort anything, there was a blast of light from the door. 

Phil stumbled backwards, covering his ears and slamming to the floor as a high pitch buzzing filled his ears. The light was a brilliant mixture of blinding whites, startling yellows and golds, vibrant, furious scarlets and oranges, forcing Phil to close his eyes to keep from being blinded. 

Almost as soon as the high noise and the painfully bright light appeared, it stopped. The headmaster’s unapologetic voice sneered into the deafening silence, “This is what happens to weaklings like you. They _burn_.” 

Phil couldn't help it. He gasped. 

“Who is that? Who’s there?” Headmaster Birchwood’s voice exclaimed, coming closer towards him. Phil scrambled desperately back, trying to get to his feet in time. He barely made it to his feet and was bolting down the hallway when he was slammed to the ground. 

Everything went black. 


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter: violence, reference to minor character death

Dan woke up the next morning with a blinding headache and their stomach full of lead. They leapt out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time for them to throw up into the basin. They coughed and shuddered, leaning over the toilet bowl as they felt their stomach barrel-rolling. 

“Ugh, fuck,” they groaned as the wave of nausea left them. They stumbled to their feet, flushing the toilet and wiping their mouth. They looked in the mirror to see a ghost of a person. There were deep grey bags under their eyes, which were bloodshot from exhaustion and there were thick tear tracks in their cheeks from crying themself to sleep. Dan splashed some cold water on their face and trudged into their room. 

They wondered where Phil was, seeing as he definitely never returned last night. Perhaps he stayed the night with his friends PJ and Chris. Dan kept repeating this to themself as they pulled on some black skinny jeans and socks and slipped on their Converses. Grabbing their keys, Dan opened the door and started down the stairs towards breakfast. 

They wandered over to where PJ and Chris were sitting with Dodie and Thomas, talking quietly among each other. “Oh, morning, Dan!” Thomas greeted cheerfully, beaming up at them. Dan waved half-heartedly and leaned on the table. 

“Have any of you guys seen Phil? We had an argument last night and I haven't seen him since. Did he come and stay with any of you guys?” they asked, looking between the four teenagers. 

They collectively shook their heads. “Seriously? Where could he be, then? Do you guys know anywhere else he might have gone?” 

“I wish we did, but he usually just goes to stay with Chris and Peej,” Dodie replied while the other three nodded. Dan sighed, hunching over and running their fingers through their hair again.

“Thanks anyway. If you see him, tell him his date is looking for him,” they said sadly, turning around and starting for the doors. 

They saw their friends sitting together at a nearby table and headed over towards them. 

They dropped into the seat next to Troye and Louise, leaning their elbow on the table. They didn't bother greeting them. Louise was deep in conversation with Zoe, both of them giggling and blushing wildly. Nathan and Troye were talking as well, though not as giggly as the two girls. 

“Morning, Dan,” Nathan greeted, pausing his conversation with Troye, “You look tired.” Dan shrugged, yawning. 

“Me and Phil—” Louise cut them off. “It’s grammatically supposed to be 'Phil and I,’” she explained, earning a harsh glare from her friend. 

“I swear I’m going to strangle you,” Dan snapped. “Anyway, _Phil and I_  had an argument last night and he disappeared. I haven't seen him since,” Dan continued, fidgeting with their hands on the table. 

Zoe leaned across Louise, placing one of her unusually warm hands over Dan’s. “Dan, sweetie, don't worry. I’m sure he’s fine. You’ll see,” she comforted, smiling sweetly, eyes twinkling. / Dan put one of their hands over Zoe’s, smiling back at their friend. “Thanks, Zo,” they said quietly, moving their hands to their lap. 

—

A few hours later, Phil was still missing. Dan was a nervous wreck, sitting with Louise in the library, attempting to read through notes on their upcoming Oceanography exam. They wiped their palms on their jeans, the perspiration almost constant in their nerves. 

After half an hour of Dan’s continued mental breakdown, Louise shut her book and turned to Dan. “Dan, what's wrong? You’re an absolute wreck right now, darling,” she said, resting a hand on Dan’s arm. They flinched from the sudden touch and Louise removed her hand. 

Dan took a deep, shuddering breath and replied, “It's Phil, Louise. I don’t know where he is. I-I’m terrified that something’s h-happened to him.” They felt their chest tightening and pulling every second, as if the stress of losing Phil was having a physical effect on their heart. 

“Okay, do you want to go find him? He can't have gone far,” Louise comforted, watching Dan struggle to take deep breaths. “But you’re gonna have to calm down first,” she added. Dan nodded, biting their bottom lip. 

“Breathe with me, Dan. Come on,” Louise said, taking a deep inhale, “In 1, 2, 3. Out 1, 2, 3.” Dan tried to follow her breathing, with difficulty, but eventually got to an even pace. 

They were still trembling slightly, but much less so, and they could breathe like a normal, functioning person. “Right, let’s go look for your boyfriend, shall we?” Louise announced, standing up. She held out her hand for Dan to take and the two of them made their way out of the library together.

—

Dan and Louise were searching around the Defense and Combat area of the school, looking around the different classrooms. “If he’s not here, he’ll be in the Drama department,” Louise explained as they closed the door to the penultimate classroom of the Defense and Combat department. They made their way over to Professor Ansari’s class at the end of the hall, where the door was closed. 

Dan tried the doorknob, turning it slightly, only to find that it was locked. They pulled and pushed on the door, twisting the handle back and forth. “It’s _lo_ _cked,_ ” Dan whined, groaning as the door refused to budge, even when they slammed their shoulder against it. 

Louise pulled them back. “Dan, it's locked. There's no way we can get in without breaking the door,” Louise said, holding their arm to keep them from bombarding the door again. 

Dan’s eyes lit up as an idea popped into their head. Their eyes widened and they pulled out of Louise’s grip. “What if we broke the handle? So that it's no longer locked?” Dan said, turning back to the handle and narrowing their eyes at it. 

“Dan, what are you suggesting?” 

Dan sighed. “I have water powers, remember?” Louise nodded. “Well, that means I can also use ice! What if I _freeze_  the handle and it breaks off?” Dan explained, their voice increasing in volume as they got more excited. Louise’s confused frown turned into a wide grin as she listened to Dan’s plans.

She nodded wildly and said, “Would that work? I mean, it can't hurt to _try_.” Dan grinned back at their friend and turned to face the door again. They grabbed hold of the metal handle and shut their eyes, focussing on ice and freezing temperatures. The handle began to feel much cooler at the touch and they gripped it tighter in their hand, begging the cold to increase. 

The handle became looser on its hinges as it froze more and more. Dan gritted their teeth and pressed even more force into the handle, begging it to freeze and break. “Come on, come _on_ ,” they muttered to themself, focussing on the chill they felt under their fingers. 

With a loud _crack_  the handle finally broke and clattered to the floor. Dan shook the cold from their hand and pushed the door open, grinning. “You did it! You actually _did it!_ ” Louise exclaimed, following them into the classroom. 

Professor Ansari’s room had a strange aura to it today. It felt almost dark as they stepped inside. The lights were off, leaving the room a desolate, dull grey. All of the desks were still set up in their usual rows, casting long black shadows across the floor like trees in an obscene forest. Dan walked towards Professor Ansari’s desk and Louise flicked the light on, following after them. 

“Phil? Phil, are you in here?” Dan called, walking over to a huge cupboard behind her desk. Louise marched determinedly over to the desk, looking around at the millions of scattered sheets of paper. Dan pulled on the handle to the cupboard and the door swung open. 

Inside the chest, there were class supplies like weapons and different explosives they had used in classes. None of them were turned on, however, making them virtually useless to anyone. 

Behind them, Louise gasped. “Dan! Come here! Check this out!” she stage whispered, gesturing sharply towards herself. Dan made their way over to the desk curiously, knitting their eyebrows together.

Louise was looking down at a notebook, which was leaned on the keyboard of Professor Ansari’s computer. It was covered in scribbled handwriting, as if the notes had been made in a hurry. Dan scanned the page it was opened on. It read: 

96 people killed

Why is it always fire? 

Who has fire powers? Who has this much power 

Lancaster

DRAMA                                                                                                                                   Diana 

Bristolian

{BIRCHWOOD}

Always near her office

Has most power overall

Is that a good reason?                                                                                                        Kinda creepy?

Didn't she say power is important?

{WHERE ARE FIRE BOOKS}

“Was she onto Birchwood? About the accident a few weeks ago?” Louise breathed, looking incredulously at Dan. 

Dan shrugged. “Seems like it. At least Phil and I aren't alone in that,” they replied casually, looking through other pages. They all had casualties on them from the different attacks through the years.

“Wait, what? Are you and Phil onto her as well? But why?” Louise asked, raising her eyebrows, eyes narrowed. 

Dan ignored her question, looking at the first ever casualty page. “Woah, did you know there was a huge fire the spring before we started?” Dan exclaimed, pointing at the paper, “203 people /died!/ Isn't that insane?” 

Louise’s eyes widened as she looked down at the paper as well. “Damn, that's a lot of people. And loads of them were staff!” Louise picked up the jotter and flicked back and forth through the pages. “Remember the different attacks since we started here? Hasn't the worst damage always been in the entrance hall? Especially the left staircase,” Louise said, skimming one of the pages. 

“Yeah, Phil and I thought of that. Headmaster Birchwood’s office is only a few floors above it. Like, right on top of it,” Dan agreed, still watching Louise reading the jotter's contents. 

Louise shook her head. “Yeah, but what _else_  is _r_ _ight_  above the left staircase? _And_  has quick access from the headmaster’s office?” she stated slowly, clearly trying to spell it out for the very clueless Dan. They shook their head, furrowing their brows. “The drama department, you numpty! If your theory about the headmaster is true, I bet you she uses one of the classrooms over there,” she said, putting the book back down on the desk. 

Dan’s eyes widened. “And that's the only place we haven't looked yet!” Dan exclaimed, slapping Louise’s arm in excitement. “Come on!” They grabbed Louise’s arm and they took off out of the classroom.

They sprinted through the halls, their feet echoing on the stone floors. They passed a couple of students, who looked rather startled at the two teens rocketing past, apologising over their shoulders. They hurried down a flight of stairs and turned the corner towards the drama classrooms. Gasping for breath, they stopped at the end of the hallway, clutching stitches in their sides and leaning bent double. 

“Let's-get–going!” Louise wheezed, grabbing the handle of the closest door. She turned the door and pushed it open, stepping inside. 

However, Dan didn't follow. Their eyes were trained on the other end of the hallway. Swirls of thick black were marked on the walls, like a fire had taken form there. “Louise, look at that,” Dan breathed, pointing in the direction of the strange mural of ebony etched into the wall. 

Louise stepped back out of the classroom. “Woah! That's _weird!_ ” she exclaimed. They started down the hallway together, staring down the suspicious wall. Louise trailed her fingers in the thick black, her fingers getting covered in what looked like soot. 

Dan followed the smoke trail on the wall into the last classroom. The door was still open, which was unusual. Dan stepped inside the room and looked around. Their stomach dropped to the floor and they felt the whole world crashing in on them. They gasped. 

Lying in a heap on the floor was Professor Ansari. Her pale yellow hijab was undone, revealing long dark hair and her face was badly burnt. She was almost unrecognisable. Dan squatted down next to her, looking horrified as they traced the thick burns on her skin. It was rough and raw, falling away from her bones from the intensity of the heat. 

Her barely recognisable face was pulled into a grimace, as if her last moments had been spent in agony. Her eyes, her normally golden and pure eyes, were still open. They had lost their usual determined light and looked cold and lifeless. Dan felt sick to their stomach as they looked at her ripped, burnt clothes and her shrivelled skin and her terrified, tormented facial expression. 

“Oh, my God,” Louise muttered, leaning over the body as well. Dan’s stomach pulsed and they barely managed to keep from puking on their teacher. “Who would do such a thing? How could someone do this?” Louise asked in disbelief, her grey-blue eyes pricked with tears. 

“The kind that would kill like 400 people in eight years,” Dan replied, turning back to their friend. They looked down at Professor Ansari again, lip trembling. “She was my favourite teacher. She was always there for me,” Dan muttered, wiping a stray tear from their cheek. 

“I quite liked her as well. She was always very nice and I liked her classes,” Louise replied, keeping her eyes on the woman lying dead in front of her. Louise looked around the room, her eyes stopping at the other side of the class. “Look at that massive bookshelf. What’s even the point of so many books in a _Drama_  classroom?” Louise asked, looking back down at her teacher.

Dan shrugged and walked over. Most of the books were old and fraying, many of them missing a title on their spines. “They're very old, too,” Dan replied, pulling out one of the books. They flicked through the pages, unable to read the faded writing. They returned it to its spot and reached for another book. This one was as thick as a dictionary, its edges even more torn than the rest of the books on the shelf. 

They pulled the book back, but were unable to fully get it out. Their stomach leaped into the air as they felt the floor beneath them spinning. A scream escaped their lips as the shelf spun around. “Louise? Louise, what the fuck?” they called out desperately, banging on the shelf. All the lights were out and they couldn't see anything. 

“Dan? Where did you go?” Louise called, her voice getting closer as she ran towards where the shelf had been. “Where’s the bookshelf? Is it one of those weird secret doorways?” Louise said, her voice shaking on the other side of the shelf-door. 

“I–I think so,” Dan replied, looking around. “It’s pretty dark back here. I can't see a thing,” they added, raising their voice. 

Louise’s voice returned on the other side of the wall. “There's obviously a reason for this weird shelf. Try to find where it leads and I’ll go get help!” Louise called. Dan nodded, forgetting she couldn't see them. 

“Okay! See you soon!” 

They turned around in the pitch black. They took a slow, cautious step forwards and a torch lit up beside them, making them jump. As their eyes got used to the dim lighting, they noticed a small staircase leading down to somewhere. 

“What the fuck?” they muttered, putting a foot onto the highest step. Another lantern lit up. Dan took the next step, and the next, and the next, lanterns lighting up their way. Soon they were running all the way down the winding stairway, heart hammering in their ears. 

They reached the bottom of the stairs, adrenaline pumping in their veins. At the bottom of the stairs was a door. It was navy blue with a rusty knocker on it in the shape of a dragon. Shrugging, Dan turned the handle. The door swung open, creaking loudly. 

Inside was a small, ill-lit room with candles dotted around the floor. In the farthest corner, none other than Phil was lying with his limbs tied together, a gag in his mouth. His eyes widened when they saw Dan enter. “Phil!” Dan exclaimed, slamming the door shut behind them and starting towards their boyfriend. 

However, something hot whipped across their cheek. Dan jerked around to come face to face with the Headmaster. She was standing against the other wall, one of her arms still held out towards Dan. “I was right! It _was_  you!” Dan exclaimed, pointing furiously at their head teacher. 

The headmaster stepped closer, snapping her fingers. The dim lighting of the small room became brighter and Dan could see properly again. Birchwood was standing elegantly with her dark hair tied into a sleek, high bun without a stray hair to be seen. 

“So we meet again, Mr. Howell,” she drawled, stepping ever closer. Dan swallowed hard. “I haven't spoken one on one with you in, what, seven years?” she added, taking another step. / Dan stepped back. “Yes,” they said carefully, narrowing their eyes at the woman standing before them. 

“A lot has changed since then, hasn't there?” she stated coolly, her eyes darting in Phil’s direction. “You are not so naive as before. And you are a Prefect, the Depute Head Boy! And one of the top in your class as well, I might add.” Dan hardly knew how any of these facts could be important in this situation.

As if reading their mind, Birchwood added, “You may be wondering why this is important. You see, I admire power and talent and determination. That is the only way to succeed in life.” Dan rolled their eyes. “Clearly, Mr. Howell, you have a lot of power within you. You are one of my best students and you never fail to use your powers in the best, most powerful ways! 

“I see that you figured out my little secret, yes? You and your— _friend_  figured out that it was me that was the source of these attacks.” Dan nodded. “Clever boys,” she sneered, making Dan’s stomach explode in rage. In the corner, Phil was fidgeting against the bounds that tied their arms and legs together, scowling at the headmaster. 

Dan cleared their throat, regaining a sense of confidence. “Yes, ma’am. We did. So, now your plan will fail and you’ll be caught,” they snapped, feeling their anger literally boiling below the surface. “Why would you kill so many people anyway? What's the use in that if power is so important to you? You’re not exactly powerful if people keep dying.” 

Headmaster Birchwood laughed dryly, her eyes flashing evilly. “Exactly. What better way to find the most powerful people than by testing them? Only the most powerful will manage to survive and conquer,” she explained, pacing the floor. The boards creaked and wailed underfoot. “Only the most powerful can survive. Only the most powerful are good enough,” she added. 

“If you truly want 'power,’ you need masses. The more people, the more power,” Dan stated simply, clenching their fists, furrowing their brows. Their headmaster sounded oddly familiar in how she spoke. 

“I will either be powerful or I will not be at all,” she replied shortly, tilting her head daringly. Dan scoffed. 

“Did you just quote _Hitler?_  He said that about Germany,” they remarked, shaking their head disbelievingly. “You want only the best and to do so, you’re killing hundreds of people with the excuse of power!” 

“Hitler was not that bad. He helped Germany to get out of its extreme poverty.” 

“You don't seriously think that's true,” Dan said disbelievingly, frowning deeply at the headmaster.

“Oh, little boy, you are still so naive,” she cooed, stepping right in front of Dan and brushing her fingers under their chin. They felt chills going down their back, shivering in horror. “I only want the best of my students. No less. All those others? They were weak. They were not good enough, not powerful enough. They should have learned better,” she whispered in their ear, making them recoil, pushing the older woman away. 

“You’re a fucking psychopath! You don't care that you’ve killed hundreds of people! You just care about fucking power, you absolute moron!” Dan screamed, pressing against the wall, their ears burning with anger. “You’re a terrorist, you know that?” 

Birchwood shook her head, coming closer again. Dan pushed against the wall even more, gritting their teeth as the temperature of their body increased ten fold. “You are so powerful, Mr. Howell. That is clear,” she stated, smiling bitterly at them, “But how powerful are you? Can you defeat _me?_ ” 

Dan swallowed, scooting away, still pressed up against the wall. “Who cares? You don't deserve any powers or success,” Dan spat, brown eyes flashing with a determined fury. “You're just another power hungry dumbass who thinks that they're everything just because they have authority over people!” 

“You really shouldn't have said that, _brat!_ ” she snapped. Before they could react, a burst of flames hit them in the shoulder. Dan jumped aside, holding out their hands. “Fight me, if you think you’re so good!” 

Dan pressed burning hot water out of their hands, hitting her in the face. She flinched from the wetness, moving away. She aimed another attack in their direction, which Dan dodged. The wall behind them caught fire. They sprayed her again. 

Dan forced the water in their veins out of their hands, jetting her with water. They felt their ears beginning to steam, tickling their ears. “You killed an innocent teacher upstairs,” Dan remarked, dodging another flame, “Professor Ansari was a good person, you know that? A better person than you’ll ever be.” 

Phil attempted to laugh against the gag in their mouth, keeping any real noise from escaping. It burned as it rubbed against his face, the friction choking him.

A brilliant mix of bright blue and red soared through the air, hitting the different opponents who equally flinched. 

“Your little friend looks uncomfortable, no?” the headmaster drawled as she too dodged a bullet of water. Dan took a deep, angered breath and aimed for her again. It hit her in the shoulder. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to him,” she sneered. Dan’s heart thudded in their chest and for just a moment they dropped their hand, just for a split second. 

Headmaster Birchwood turned towards Phil and took a step forwards. She narrowed her eyes threateningly at Dan, a cruel smile playing on her lips. Time seemed to stand still, everything moving in slow motion as Birchwood aimed at Phil and a shot of searing hot fire raced towards Phil’s chest. As soon as it hit him, he gasped out and went unconscious. 

“You did _not_  just do that,” Dan spat, fury filling them and pulsing in their veins. Their entire being was rage and fury, pumping through their body and boiling, ready to spew over the edge. They felt the steam that was just faintly bubbling explode out and Dan threw every fibre of their power, of their determination into their hands, a blast of water ricocheting out of them like an explosion.

It hit Headmaster Birchwood with a force so huge, she was thrown backwards, hitting her head on the wall behind her. They didn't stop drenching her, even after she was unconscious, thick, angry sobs bellowing out of them. They didn’t finish until they had nothing left. A trickle of thick red blood rolled down the side of her head. In a fit of exhaustion, Dan collapsed on the floor. 

“Phil. Phil, are you okay?” they asked weakly, crawling over towards the other boy. They tore the gag off of his head and tossed it aside, peering down in horror at the tightly wound ropes around his arms and legs. As if he had struggled against the bindings, he was bleeding in several areas from friction and there were deep indents from circulation loss. “Jesus Christ, what did she do to you, Phil?” they muttered, struggling to untie the binds. 

They looked around the room for something to use, their eyes falling onto one of the still burning candles. They let go of Phil’s limbs and shuffled on their knees over to the nearest flickering candle and carried it back to Phil. Careful not to touch his skin, Dan burned the rope off, the satisfying sizzle echoing in their ears. 

Once they were burned enough, the bindings on Phil fell apart and Dan shucked them aside. “Oh, God. Oh, fuck, please be okay, Phil. Please be alive,” they muttered, grabbing one of his wrists in their hands, searching desperately for a pulse. After a few seconds of fumbling around, a slow and uneven heartbeat pulsed under their fingers. 

Dan heaved a sigh of relief, unaware of the breath they had been holding in. Carefully, Dan lifted Phil up bridal style and got cautiously to their feet. They stumbled to the door, casting one last look at the unconscious headmaster, and made their way up the winding staircase again. 

Phil was surprisingly heavy in their arms, his weight dragging them down and making it much harder to get up the stairs without having to stop a few times. Eventually, however, they reached the top of the stairs, back to the bookshelf. They pulled the ancient book down using their chin and still jumped in fright as the shelf swung around in a split second. 

The classroom looked much the same when they got back, but Louise and Professor Ansari were nowhere to be seen. Dan sighed, starting on their way to getting Phil to the matron. 


End file.
